


Hell Froze Over, and We Shall Reignite It

by RubixaSeraph



Series: Reignite the Flame [3]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Drama, F/F, F/M, Family, Fluff, Irony, Multi, Other, Suspense, speculation on hellgates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:54:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 72,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23171278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubixaSeraph/pseuds/RubixaSeraph
Summary: Events will ripple the waters surface, and tug at the tangled webs of bonds. Take one thread and make it sing a vibrating note, and others will hum along.After the Qliphoth, the metaphorical waters won’t be calming gently. It’s but a game-changing move on the chess board; red, blue, black, white...Down in Hell, Dante and Vergil are given a little less choice on when they need to return, by request of an unlikely survivor: “My mind is still foggy... but the one feeling I woke to hasn’t changed. Someone’s waiting for me. I must go back...”And meanwhile, Nero gets an intriguing call for the business: “My family had always been too proud to ask for help. But now I’m all that’s left. The hunters have become the hunted. I wasn’t enough. I didn’t do enough. The demons have taken them, one by one. Please, I beg of you... save them. Save... me...”
Relationships: Dante/Original Character(s), Kyrie/Nero (Devil May Cry), Nero's Mother/Vergil (Devil May Cry), Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Original Character(s)
Series: Reignite the Flame [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681678
Comments: 59
Kudos: 78





	1. Reaching Hands

_To reflect upon the past_

_Is to search for answers of the future_

_By turning the sepia times_

_Into a coloured tomorrow._

* * *

Early August, it was lightly drizzling outside the shop. 

Lady and Trish had taken the liberty of using the Devil May Cry as a rest stop that night. Still no sign of Dante. And no one dared voice anything yet on what to do or how to handle the big possibility of Vergil showing up in tow. 

The phone rang. They had kept the bills paid, begrudgingly so. At the very least, they had one good reason to want to keep the phone bill paid: never know when their stroke of luck would have it, that they would be in the shop to pick up the phone and hear Dante on the other end. 

Lady circled about the desk to pick up the receiver: “Devil May Cry.”

Gosh she missed hearing Dante saying it, instead of the words from her own mouth. 

“Um... is Dante available?”

A female voice. Wavering and uncertain. 

“Sorry, he’s away on a _long_ vacation. If it’s a job, I might be able to take it.” Lady responded. No password yet, though. Probably not a real job or a good one. 

“Ah... no, I’m sorry to have bothered you.” The line clicked dead. Lady frowned and gently set the receiver down. 

“Who was that?” Trish asked from the couch. 

“Not sure. Some girl asking for Dante. Couldn’t have been a job call from the sounds of it.” She then huffed and cracked a joking smile. “A secret girlfriend?”

They shared a laugh. Trish and Lady both knew that Dante’s history with women and people in general never landed him prolonged relationships with anyone.

* * *

Time being something that is near impossible to keep track of in the Underworld, it's hard to really say what the intervals between activities have been. Slay demons, fight each other, walk around finding an area that would lead them out of hell...

In between all of this, of course, included a lot of banter in the form of Dante firing questions at Vergil about things he wasn’t ready to discuss, or were none of his business. Most of their conversations started off explosively from the get-go, but over the indeterminate period of time passed, some things got old, and some barriers had to give. Just enough to keep Dante shut up for a while longer.

Such conversation topics were also varied. One ended up being:

"Come on, at least tell me a name. Can't just keep referring to her as 'Nero's Mom' can I? And you stab me if I refer to her as your lov-" Though he had shut up the moment a summon sword materialized in the air, Dante had a cheeky grin plastered on his face. 

"I already told you, it's none of your business." Vergil continued forward, resolute in walking away from this ‘problem.’

“You say that, Verge...” Dante followed, “But even if it’s not my business, it’s eventually going to come up. Nero will ask. And he deserves an answer, then.”

“Like how he deserved explanations from you?” The elder sibling turned to give the deadpan response, and Dante’s expression faltered momentarily. 

“It wasn’t my explanation to give.” He recovered and grounded out.

Hoping that this would put an end to the conversation, he continued forward once again. 

The solemn silence was short. Too short, as always: 

“At least tell me this, Vergil, with all of that human heart you supposedly have from being V. Did she make you... happy?”

Vergil stopped in his tracks. Dante waited for a response. 

The older twin’s grip on the Yamato tightened. The younger thought perhaps to push with a bit of teasing, but the idea perished when Vergil glanced back towards him. 

The gaze wasn’t one of contempt. There was a hint of vexation but Dante was certain he was reading forlorn guilt. 

The pause was long, but he waited. He hoped for an answer... something, anything, to affirm to him that somewhere in this messed up tale of their lives, Vergil cared. 

And it wasn’t that Dante needed some proof of his brother’s heart. It wasn’t only that. 

Every bit he can re-learn about his brother was proof that his twin was real. Alive. And he hoped he wasn’t going to lose him again. 

But for now, Dante admitted to none of that.

In what felt like ages, Vergil’s gaze finally left Dante, and he responded in almost a whisper: “Her name was Seraphina Valkyrie. She was the first one who called me V, and I allowed it.”

The topic wasn’t touched on again for a long time. But Dante could feel some sort of heavy admission from this information. It was almost like saying...

_She was the first one to bring out more of his human side._

* * *

One month had passed since the demon tree’s demise, and then another. 

It’s hard for Nero to say if business was good or bad. Jobs? There were plenty. But that simply meant there was more danger out there. More people were possibly getting hurt. 

_“It’s because you’re here that we can go.”_

Sometimes, Nero felt pissed at Dante’s mixed messages. A part of him knew now that Dante did what he did and said what he said in some misguided idea that he was protecting Nero. 

Only a small part of him.

Most of him still felt angry and betrayed that his apparent uncle had kept so much from him. So much that mattered. Hell, in the two month’s time he thought about it, he even wanted to be mad at Dante for _not letting him in_.

The value of the day Dante told him he could hold on to the Yamato suddenly increased in significance by tenfold. In all of the jabs and in between their ribbing when they interacted, sparse as those interactions were, Nero felt like he was now slapped in the face by a truth he should have seen the entire time...

How depressed Dante actually got, how every joke and every grin might have just been one big farce. It hit Nero even harsher when Lady reluctantly recounted the basics of how she and Dante knew each other, how she had witnessed from almost the very beginning the heart of a half-devil that had lost the last of his family. 

Trish solemnly filled in some blanks on the statement Nero learnt from Nico, how Dante had supposedly killed Vergil on Mallet Island. 

And when she revisited the tale about Fortuna that Nero felt like he should have known best, he wanted to punch something. 

“Right there. I was right there, the whole time. Those past five to almost six years... how could he be so stupid? I even...” He hated being choked up over this, but he was beyond the point of caring. “I even asked him if we’d see each other again. That’s about as open as an invitation as it got, and now I know he still held me at arm’s length! Damn it! I mean, I kind of knew he was. But the extent that he did, now that I know. Just what the f- heck!”

Beside him, Kyrie gently rubbed his arm in reassurance. “It wasn’t very kind of him, but I’m sure he had his reasons... even if those reasons might not be entirely justifiable...” 

Lady sighed from her seat across from them. Even she was feeling dejected over this. “This is Dante we are talking about. He’s really, really not the brightest. But...” She wrung her hands, trying to feign nonchalance when she was really showing her nervousness. A rare occasion, but lately things have gotten too heavy. “I know where he’s coming from. I couldn’t really give him any advice on the matter, either. Not that he really asked for any. When I caught him putting in an order for that neon sign...”

They all knew which sign she was referring to. It shone bright and blue on the side of the Devil May Cry RV. Nero may not have known the significance of its colour, but Lady had to chew her lip to prevent herself from asking Dante when she first saw it. After all, the shop’s sign was a pink shade, akin to red. Yet Dante had specifically chosen blue to send to Nero. 

“...He told me... he said...”

She recollected his words, and retold them to the best of her ability. 

‘Kid’s too good to have to deal with the family’s fucked up problems. But here he is. I couldn’t escape it. I thought Vergil had the worst of it. But I was wrong. Kid definitely has the worst of this family curse. My stupid pop’s mess just has to land in his grandchild’s lap, too. And none of the family has ever been in contact with the kid.’

“I didn’t really agree on how he thought he was doing you a favor by keeping you in the dark. But no matter how I looked at it, there was no good way about it, Nero. Every angle we could have taken with this was going to cut deep. What happened with the Qliphoth, it was just the turn things finally took. It’s not the best, but I don’t know how it could have gotten any better...”

Trish, sitting beside Lady, gave her friend a pat on her hand, and added: “None of us thought otherwise about Vergil’s death. I was told by Mundus himself that he was defeated, and Mundus did not let failures survive. Though Dante suspected where the blood ties connected, he thought it was better that he left things at leaving you the Yamato. What more could we have done, much less explain, about a dead man?”

So much had been crashing down on Nero, but something else ate at him. “No, that’s just... that’s not it. I’m still mad that he kept those from me, and yeah all of this really only left me with more questions, but... shit. Trish, I could have done something for him? My only blood relative I’ve known for five years, and despite all this messed up shit, that still matters, you know? It doesn’t matter how we’re related—“ he choked up a little; this was only admission he had to having thought Dante might have been his father. “He was family.”

Lady gave him a long and knowing look. “Of course.” She agreed softly. 

“...Dante was right, Nero. He doesn’t deserve family as good as you.” Trish revealed just as softly. 

“The heck? How depressed can the old man get, to say that? Well too bad. He doesn’t get a choice in that matter anymore.”

Light chuckles and grins surfaced, before there was a small stretch of silence. Then Nero asked: “Do you think he... do you think they will come back?”

It was Kyrie that supplied a resolute answer, despite not being an insider to the sheer history of the Devil May Cry associates: “I would rather bet, Nero, from how he tried in his own way to protect you, that he has a stronger reason to come back. You gave him that reason. Now we just have to believe in him.”

* * *

Time went on in whatever fashion it did. Whispers of things in Hell were not often interesting, save for the recent tellings of a key to a hellgate. 

Though it sounded like a boon, it also felt highly suspicious. “Never trust a good thing in hell, Dante.” Vergil warned when they first heard whispers of this supposed gate and key. Dante had quipped back, but not relentlessly. 

They had both lost enough to hindsight; even if neither will admit it, each could agree that there was something more on the line now. Their own tattered futures, each other, and family. Nero. 

Nero deserved so much better than what either of them had to offer. Worst yet, in their own ways, they knew Nero deserved everything they should have offered, but they had failed to offer it.

It was not so much of an agreement in admissions, as it was an unspoken agreement in argument. 

Dante at one point tried to ask: “So, this Seraphina. Think you know why she left Nero at the orphanage?”

The initial answer has been a scathing retort of “How would I know what that woman was thinking after I left?” 

Blades immediately clashed. Words were exchanged, and Dante quickly made the mistake of bringing up how unbelievably foolish it was for Vergil to have raised the Temen-ni-gru, much less for leaving the mysterious Seraphina. The final nail in the coffin was: “Tower be damned! Yeah, you claimed you needed power to protect what mattered. But where were your thoughts when you rejected my help and chose to fall into hell? The tower, you wanting dad’s power... none of that was really what pissed me off! You LEFT, Verge! You left me behind, for over twenty damned years. And if I didn’t matter enough, then what about _her_?” They had already established prior that, no, Vergil didn’t know of Nero’s impending existence when he left. “What were you even trying to protect at that point?”

His explosive tirade made his combat focus waver. Dante was tired of this. He had mulled it over in his head again and again. Why? What was he not understanding about his twin? What had _really_ gone wrong? 

Next thing he knew, his older brother had knocked him back with a backhanded hit; a momentary flashback of the time Nero bitch-slapped him to the ground. Hell, even the moment the twins had knocked Nero back to prevent him from following them. 

It seemed to be the family’s way of saying “back off” at this point. 

“I didn’t...” Vergil started, physically and mentally exhausted from their disagreement in conversation. “She was far less safer in my presence than she was within it. She may have been a talented knight, but she was only human—“

“Yeah, and so was mom! So what? Dad—“

“Our father left because he knew the threat that loomed over us! Mundus was breaking free and he would turn every stone on earth to hunt Sparda for his betrayal! He—“

“Man you just don’t get it, do you?” Collecting himself painfully from the grotesque ground of the Underworld, Dante cut Vergil’s words off once again. “They found us anyway. Dad might have thought it was the only way, but didn’t you ever think that maybe dad was wrong? That he made a mistake? Because here’s the truth of the matter, bro. Dad left us. He left us, and it doesn’t matter the reason he had. The end result was that Mundus’ demons found us anyway. And mom died because of it. And the rest is history. Our history. A history you repeated, by leaving someone, thinking you were doing them a favor by stepping out.”

Vergil visibly flinched. A rare sight, as Dante made painful points clear. Any other time Dante might have teased his brother about “showing weakness.” But even he felt bad... the truth hurts, and he really wanted to be done hurting his brother. He wanted the whole family to be done hurting. 

Vergil remained silent for the whole moment he used to bring himself back to his feet. Dante followed suit, readying his sword again, preparing for the next bout that would follow. 

Except it didn’t come. 

“...I had failed in acquiring the power I needed. Without strength, you cannot protect anything. Without it... what good would it do for me to return? Without it, I was unworthy of returning.”

Dante’s mouth dropped, as did his sword arm. He sputtered to such an admission: “Unworthy? _Unworthy_? Wait, no, back up your horses here...” His Devil Sword flashed from his hand to his back, a tell that he was done crossing blades. Vergil silently sheathed Yamato, probably regretting letting Dante know any more than he already did. 

“What kind of angel was this Seraphina, that you, Mister ‘I couldn’t care less about weak humans’, would think that you’re unworthy of? That you’d need to have dad’s power for?”

“That,” The telltale pause of vexation returned to his tone, “is none of your business, insolent little brother.”

“Psh. Okay. Fine. Fine.” It wasn’t fine. But he’d pushed hard enough already. 

Surprisingly, Vergil has been willing to provide more information... not in direct answer to his most recent question, but instead to the question that instigated this argument:

“Sera did not seem to be one that would abandon a child, even if it was... conceived out of poor judgement. I recall her fondly regaling of her mentor’s son and his newborn daughter during my brief stay with her. She also made mention that her mentor and his wife were something of siblings to her, and she never hid her fierce loyalty towards him nor did she hide her protective fondness of her godchildren. I’m afraid there is little else you would be able to learn from this, Dante, because Nero having been left at an orphanage only tells me that something ill befell her. I wish to speak no more of this. You have made my failures plain before me, just as you have countless times before. Nero’s present and future would do better without me haunting it.” After a pause, he turned away and added:

“ _And so was the bitter taste_

_Of regrets we meant not to have_

_On a breath so light and thoughtless,_

_A sigh that could not be rescinded._ ”

“Yeah, yeah, Mister Poetry. And who was that from?”

The answer was delivered with a glare cast back: “The Valkyrie herself.”

* * *

Kyrie found Nero with a book more often as of late. 

Not just any book, but the book that Vergil had left behind. 

Today, he had more than just the book at the kitchen table. There were a few scraps of paper set out about it. One thin sheet was in Nero’s hand, and Kyrie found his knitted brow and focused gaze a bit cute in the morning light that came through the kitchen window. 

“You look like you’ve found a mystery.” She came to stand beside him. 

“Yeah, you could say that. Do you think this is Vergil’s handwriting? I’ve seen Dante’s chicken scratch. But I’m not sure if it’s... uh, maybe it’s V’s? Damn this can get confusing. They all say ‘S.V.’ In the corner, so what in hell does the ‘S’ stand for?”

Kyrie could only hum in response as she glanced over the papers. “Were these in his book?”

“Yeah. I found an envelope between the back cover and the last page. Pretty surprising that it never fell out, but it did feel like I had to pull a little to get it out from between the crevice. Might be a bit of devil power charged into this thing. If Dante can channel that into fixing the damage to his favorite coat, then it’s reasonable that Vergil used a bit of power to preserve his favorite book, right?” He explained as he set the page down with the others. 

There were only a small handful of thin papers with handwriting on them. Scanning through the leaflets, Kyrie realized they were verses and poetry. “It wouldn’t be far fetched if these belonged to Dante’s brother... he likes reading and poetry, right? So maybe he also enjoyed writing? S.V. ... A strange way to write it, but Dante and Vergil don’t seem to claim to have last names, so if they were to use anything to complete their initials, maybe the ‘S’ stands for Sparda? Even though that would be a surname instead...”

While Kyrie tried to put some sense into what she was seeing, Nero opened the book to its cover again and scrutinized Vergil’s name that was written into the cover. The handwriting didn’t really match, though at the same time there was a certain child-like scrawl to it. Nero should know. The kids he and Kyrie fostered were by no means experts at writing yet. So this wasn’t a good example to cross-examine handwriting with. 

“I don’t think this S.V. Is the same person who owned this book. Nero.” Kyrie brought his attention back to the papers. Picking one up, she read it out loud:

_“Even the strongest of wings_

_Though they may carry you far_

_Will eventually bring you to landing._

_“And though any perch may bring you rest_

_Little would be more comfortable than a nest._

_Dearest bluebird_

_Who travels with nary a break,_

_My home will always be open_

_You need no key for the gate.”_

She stopped reading, but didn’t look up from the sheet. Nero scratched at his nose, trying to understand what he just heard. “Sounds kind of roundabout for someone to just say ‘Hey, you can come back anytime.’ Why not just say that?”

“Well, I suspect it might have something to do with the recipient of this writing to be... what was it now you said when you described V as... someone who spoke in tongues and was only halfway forward with his meanings? And it would stand to reason, from what little we’ve heard of Vergil, that he’s much the same way...”

Suddenly, Nero felt both uncomfortable and curious at the same time. He shuffled his feet briefly, and made a ‘tsk’ sound from the corner of his mouth. “Okay. So you’re telling me someone wrote these for...” he wanted to kill the words on the tip of his tongue, but his tongue betrayed him anyway: “...for my father...”

“Maybe not all of them...” Kyrie scanned the other pages. “This is the only one that has a postscript. Look.” She handed him the page she had read from. 

Indeed, there were separate lines at the bottom of the page that Kyrie didn’t read out loud:

_‘We were strangers. We kind of still are. But I can tell you have no place to call home. So if you complete this secret responsibility of yours, and decide to come back here again, maybe tell me your name next time. Safe travels, V.’_

His fingers trembled as he set the sheet back down. 

“Kyrie... do you think...” He couldn’t dare hope. And he didn’t need to say it. They both suspected the same on the relation of the writer to him. 

Except now there were even _more_ questions. 

* * *

Another bout of indeterminate time later, Dante and Vergil came across a curious commotion:

Someone fighting against demons. Someone humanoid. No, she looked very human from afar. She fought with some manner of dual rapiers that also became fluid like a whip. She did not stay in one place for long, almost dancing from one enemy to the next, sometimes using her weapons like wires.

But she was slowly losing the fight. Not only that; the hordes of demons certainly weren't just trying to kill her. 

She was stuck on a defensive, fiercely protecting something that looked to be a prismatic shield on her back. If there were anything akin to sunlight or a singular light source in the area right now, the shield was certain to refract the light beautifully. 

Few of the demons that spoke hissed about taking "the key" from her. 

Dante and Vergil watched from afar. "Think that's this hellgate key we're hearing about? Maybe the owner will let us borrow it if we ask her nicely?"

"I hardly believe she will simply hand it over if we asked, Dante." Vergil was already walking forward, Yamato in hand, though still sheathed. 

"Hey, hey! Wait, you aren't going to try and take it by force are you?" Though it wasn't like anything fell in their laps easily in Hell, it simply seemed like a bad course of action to start with. 

"You think so little of me, little brother. No. We're going to, as you might put it, save the damsel in distress. And then we can demand the key from her."

"Cripes, Verge. That's not any kinder..." Dante muttered, but followed anyway. Play it by ear, as he would decide. 

If anyone thought Dante was the only one to make flashy entrances, they would be wrong. He was instantly reminded of the amount of times that, as he would call it, Vergil would steal his thunder. 

Such as the time they fought together over two decades ago, atop the tower. 

Without further preamble, Vergil teleported in. His blade flashed out, and in an instant, three of the lesser demons closest to the woman were cut down. 

Understandably startled, she turned towards the sudden presence at her back, a bladed-whip lashing out at him. He dodge it with ease. At that moment, Dante joins the party with a hefty slash of his sword, though he did so at about five paces away, instead of immediately being back-to-back with her. 

A quick glance, and he caught her bewildered but still-aggressive gaze; she was mulling if these two men were friend or foe. 

So Dante just cracked a grin, cocked his head to the side, and said: "Hey, the enemy of my enemy, or something like that, right?" All the while, he grabbed Ebony, spun her, brought the gun to his shoulder to point towards the back, and shot a demon attempting to pounce towards his back right out of the air. 

She wasted no further time nor comment on the situation, and turned the other way in order to immediately stab through another demon.

"Alright, then I guess it's a party!" Dante jumped right into action, and he and Vergil immediately turned the tides of the battle. 

In the skirmish, it quickly became apparent how tired out the woman was. When the situation proved that it would be handled by her impromptu rescuers, she eventually slowed down on the offensive and allowed Dante and Vergil to take care of the demons. 

And the twins made quick work of it. With a last stab, pinning a dying demon to the ground, he pulled his blade out to lay it across his shoulder and turned towards their damsel. 

For a woman, she had some height on her, standing at roughly 178cm (5’10”). Fairly light skin was caked with grime and dried blood. In fact, the dried blood was everywhere, even in her long hair. She was probably blonde. It was hard to tell. Hey eyes could be described as aqua or maybe even green. Her demeanor and stance did not scream “fair maiden,” however. A long and jagged scar could be seen from below her rib cage on the left, down to the center point of her hips... a dangerous wound, yet she survived. Though the tattered clothes she wore only barely covered her chest, waist area, and upper legs, she was not dressed to flaunt. She was dressed as a survivor, and her grace was nothing like Trish’s sauntering appeal. She was definitely hardened and sharp, but she didn’t seem to have Lady’s quick-trigger act-first-ask-later demeanor, either...

And she was definitely appraising their performance with a guarded stance. Well, this just means there would be some ice (and hopefully not bones) to break. 

"Hey there--"

Before Dante could get any more words out, Vergil closed the distance and had Yamato pointed at her throat. 

"Hell has never been kind enough to grant anything truly good. So let us exchange some answers." He stated. 

"Verge, really, you need to work on your first impressions." Dante shrugged, as if unphased. But honestly, this was the first time they've come accross someone that could be sociable, and he was worried that his brother was going to do something extremely stupid. 

The woman only seemed to be amused at the situation, worn out as she was:

"Of course. If it were anything you could have taken by force, you would not be leaving me alive..." Her gaze wandered up the blade and towards its wielder. "But let us hold you to your word. An exchange of answers. And I would rather this be done respectfully, as I would only afford you as much respect as you do to me."

Dante did wonder briefly over Vergil's choice of words, but that line of thought was thrown out the window when he watched his brother's grip on the Yamato tighten. Worried for a moment at how Vergil was going to proceed, he started forward...

And stopped mid-step as the katana was brought away from the woman's throat. In his usual expert flair, Vergil gave the sword a spin before sheathing it, though he still kept it ready by his side. (Likewise, their potential new friend still held her dual rapiers with a firm grip.) "That is acceptable. Tell us about that shield at your back."

Dante brought a hand to his chin, taking in this exchange with curiosity.

Meanwhile, the woman frowned. "...If you're asking if it's a key to getting out of here, I can't be certain. It's what I've been told, but this thing doesn't belong to me. I don't know how it works."

"Huh." Dante nodded. "Okay, what? Did you actually lift that from someone else?"

He received a withering look. "An answer for an answer. Why do you want to know about this shield?"

"Well, Hell really isn't a prime vacation spot. Just a simple matter of wanting to get home.” He spun around and gestured at the terrible hellscape about them, eyes briefly flickering towards Vergil. Their gazes met briefly. Dante couldn’t really read what was on his brother’s mind right now, but he was hoping that maybe Vergil would agree with him in some way. Because they still haven’t quite addressed what “home” is yet. 

Something made the woman turn her gaze from Dante back to Vergil, as if looking for the unneeded confirmation that what Dante said was true. 

“...I would like to leave this place, as well.” He responded. 

“Home does sound nice, doesn’t it?” She finally looked away from them, and down at the rapier in her left hand. A sign that she was willing to let a bit of her guard down. A small sign of trust, then. The weapons reformed themselves about her arms, blades twisting up to snake about her forearms like decorations, the guard and remainder of the sword becoming metal guards for the back of her hands and knuckles. 

So Dante allowed his Devil Sword to flash from his hand and reappear at his back. She did say something about respect, didn’t she? 

Curiously, Vergil relaxed his stance, as well. 

The woman then looked back at Dante: “To answer your previous question, I did not steal this item. It’s original owner had... picked me up, for lack of a better phrase. I had recently woken up from a haze...” She shook her head and sighed. “I don’t really have my head all on straight right now. I don’t know how long I’ve been down here but I’ve been surviving on demon’s blood. Roy— that’s the owner of this shield— told me I’m something of an exception to still be alive, much less able to retain anything of myself after, and I quote: ‘getting high off of demon’s blood.’” She frowned. “I’ve remembered a fair bit for now, but it won’t be long before I’ll need to ingest something to keep me from starving and dying. I know this wasn’t the first round of drinking and losing time plus memories I’ve had. Guess the blood gives me a big power boost, but everything comes at a price, doesn’t it?”

Her explanation fell to silence, and she shuffled her feet. 

One question was turning into twenty as the twins exchanged looks, Dante somewhat startled and not knowing where to start; Vergil looking critical and trying to decide what was more important to ask. But it wasn’t their turn. And the woman knew this. 

“Let’s start somewhere not as complicated. How about introductions?” She asked. 

“Oh, that’s easy. I’m Dante. This here...” He jerks his head towards Vergil. “Is my annoying asshat of a brother, Vergil.”

“Both of those adjectives describe you better than me, Dante.” Vergil glowered. 

The woman glanced between the two, her gaze inquisitive towards Dante first, then she seemed to scrutinize Vergil for a long while. “Something familiar seems to tug at the back of my mind. Have we met?”

“Ah, ah! We’re exchanging answers, right?” Suddenly feeling playful, since all weapons were away, Dante teased her. “It’s only respectful to at least tell us your name after asking for ours.”

“Dante, she might not even remember her name.” Something about Vergil’s tone was curt and on edge. 

But it was too late to stop that answer that came forth: 

“Oh. Well, I’m fairly certain my name is Sera.”

 _Wait. That sounds familiar._ Thought Dante. And he remembered just as she continued speaking:

“I seem to recall being called Seraphina Valkyrie. Or Lady Valkyrie. Except I don’t think I have a lot of fond memories of the latter. So please don’t call me that.”

Dante stole another glance at Vergil, both giddy and fearful of what’s to follow. He wanted to quip, to tease, to follow the brotherly instincts of giving Vergil hell, but instead he felt the great need to swallow a growing lump in his throat...

Because this was hell. _Hell has never been kind enough to grant anything truly good._

He also thought of Trish. How her very tailored appearance had been a trap. He had known it was a trap but threw logic out to chase after emotion instead. 

Was this just a repeat of hell trying to bait them with their own emotions?

And suddenly he was very very afraid for his brother. This was too early to be confronting something like this. Dante didn’t know what kind of turmoil this could bring up for Vergil, who hasn’t seemed to properly grasp the concept of healthy emotional coping. (Not that Dante was one to talk, with his own brand of emotional problems.)

For now, to his tentative relief, Vergil did not immediately switch into aggressive denial or scathing argument. Instead, he responded as if continuing a normal conversation:

“Duly noted. Would you prefer Seraphina, or Sera?” He asked.

She smiled, something in her eyes laughing. “Hey... weren’t you the one that said we’d exchange answers?”

“That in itself was another question on its own. I think we can hold a normal and respectful conversation at this point, provided my brother doesn’t fill it with his pointless chatter.” 

Vergil glared at Dante. Dante read between the lines and gestures: _let me take care of this._

And she laughed, mirthful and hearty. “Alright. It’s probably easier to simply have conversation as opposed to interrogation. Call me Sera. It’s a pleasure to meet you both, Vergil, Dante.”

Sera then took the shield from her back, and looked down at it wistfully: “My mind is still foggy... but the one feeling I woke to hasn’t changed. Someone’s waiting for me. I must go back...” She held the item closer to her and looked up at her new companions. “I think our end goal is the same. But I’m afraid the circumstances that landed this item into my hands does not bode well. I think Roy panicked when we were ambushed. He was very intent on keeping this out of the hands of the Devil we fought, and didn’t think through on what I was supposed to do with this after escaping. I don’t know how it works, and it certainly doesn’t want to listen to me, much less transform into anything other than a shield...”

“It transforms?” Dante walked up to bend over and examined the shield in her hands, hand beneath his chin in thought. “Some form of Devil Arm?”

“It very well may be. Sera, would you permit me to examine it?” Vergil held out a hand in question. 

Her gaze was once again measuring, but distrust did not surface. “Please.” She held it out towards him. 

And Dante’s heart clenched. 

If something as simple as trust can be afforded to his brother, similar to how Dante had friends such as Trish and Lady...

He’d want to protect that, just as much as he wanted Vergil’s continued place in his life again. A place that would still be empty if Nero hadn’t slapped some sense into them. 

So he could only hope that this ‘Sera’ was true and proper. Because heaven forbid, if she was just another trap...

Then Hell hath Fury, in the form of a half-Devil in red.

If she wasn’t though...

Maybe Nero could forgive Dante’s years of omissions if he safely saw home both the kid’s father _and_ his mother. 

...Who was Dante kidding? He knew the kid would still attempt to deck him and give him a chewing out. 

And he would still be his family. _They_ would still be family. 

* * *

Nero wasn’t hopeful. 

That was only half true. But he did tell himself from the get-go that he shouldn’t keep his hopes up. After the incident Sanctus created, many records were lost. And besides, he was already convinced from his years of wondering and asking that there was nothing that could tell him who his parents were.

So what difference were the initials “S.V.” going to make?

Not much. But then again, he hadn’t had too much time to look. Work still had to be done. Demons must be hunted. And also, food for the table and supplies for home. 

So he and Nico set out, again, and again, and again once more. 

Well, not in so tiresome terms. But it has been a little busy. And tonight, it was far out enough that Nero and Nico stopped by the main shop to rest, instead of spending the night in the RV.

He had gotten off the phone from bidding Kyrie and the orphans good night. Nico lounged across one of the couches, partaking in the only food that ever seemed to grace the establishment: she had ordered pizza. 

Not that Nero was really complaining. It just brought him a pang of anxious energy over when the rightful owner of the establishment was returning. 

And then the phone rang again. 

“People still call this place?” Nico commented. 

Nero shrugged. “Maybe it’s just Kyrie forgot to tell me something. Devil May Cry.” He answered. 

“H-hello. Am I speaking to Dante?” The speaker’s voice was uneven, and ended with something that sounded like a sob. Female. Upset. 

“Sorry, Miss. The old man’s out of town. And we don’t know when he’ll be back. Uh... family emergency. Got a job for us though? I could get it done just as good.” He waited to see if the caller would drop any sort of password, so that he didn’t have to guess if this was actually a business call or not. 

“Family emergency?” The voice on the other end seemed breathless and anxious. “I...”

He really didn’t have time to be playing 20 questions. It’s late, and if it’s a demon-related job, he’ll take it. But if not, he wanted to get to sleep. “‘Kay, so the name’s Nero. I usually run the mobile branch around town. You’re lucky anyone was here in shop at all today, seeing as Dante hasn’t been back in a little over two months. How can we help?”

There was a choked breath. “Help... I...” He couldn’t tell; was that a question or a plea? “I’m not sure. No, you’re... you’re looking for a password. _Shit_.” Nero raised an eyebrow, hearing that. The caller continued:

“I was calling for the Legendary Devil Hunter. I don’t have the password. I don’t think he ever told my... family. I got a copy of this number from old records we kept.” There was effort she was putting in to keep her voice even. “I don’t even know if he has _our_ password.”

“What.” This got Nero’s attention. “Are you a hunter?” He immediately asked, but then regretted being so impulsive. 

The line paused. There was a shaky intake of breath. And then: “My family had always been too proud to ask for help. But now I’m all that’s left. The hunters have become the hunted. I wasn’t enough. I didn’t do enough. The demons have taken them, one by one. Please, I beg of you... save them. Save... me...”

A plea, then. Nero could almost hear his own heartbeat pounding through his chest and head. His instincts screamed that this was something big. 

Nico watched in sudden alertness as Nero tore through Dante’s desk drawers for pen and paper. “Miss, what’s your name?”

“Snow.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“It’s a bit of a long story, but... the basics of it is that about a month, no, more than that... maybe two months ago, something, ah... something tore through from Hell and took something from my family. It’s more than just a concern, because what was taken was something _powerful_ and important to my family. Not even a few days later, my cousin disappeared on a job. And then the pattern continued. Two more of my cousins were taken. So then... with no proper leads and only circumstantial evidence, my uncle took a trip to hell. And things only got worse from there...”

Nero stopped his pen for a moment, having been jotting down words like “kidnapping” and “important powerful family artifact”, but faltered when she talked about her uncle going to hell. Damn, he almost wanted to say something. What was with family members going to hell recently? 

He also fearfully wondered if this had anything to do with his family. 

“We went on lockdown... or tried to. It’s a bit hard when you still have to blend in with society. And then the attacks became bold. I assume because we weren’t going out to them, they tried to come to us.” Snow’s explanation was wavering again. “And then it turns out, they wanted us. And above that, they wanted me. And I...”

Frustration was building in her voice. 

“I should have left! I should have left a long time ago! We knew that I was a weak link. That I was just a beacon that would invite trouble to the family. But they... they always told me it would be okay. That they would protect me. That I don’t have to leave for such a stupid reason and all that stuff about being family! And then, and then...” She was definitely crying now. “We lost everyone. I lost everyone. Watched them take my mother and my other uncle right before my eyes. I buried my aunt three nights ago. My cousins are going to hate me. Her dead gaze still haunts me. And the demons still haven’t gotten everyone yet. I’m their final prize, and my family paid the price for protecting me, when I should have been protecting them instead...”

He felt like he needed to stop her. And he did: “Hey. Hey! Snow, listen. Stay with me here.” Somehow in that instant, hearing such a raw confession, he felt like they could be familiar; so polite titles were forgone. “You’re not... you’re not a weak link or something.” _Weak link_ resounded like _deadweight_. “Just... shit, okay, let me... let’s talk business. Let me help you. Where are you? What else do you know?”

She hiccuped, and seemed to steady herself to continue: “Hong Kong. I know that’s far—“

No shit it was far. And if she knew, why call Devil May Cry? Then again, it wasn’t like there were demon hunting businesses just everywhere...

“But money isn’t going to be a problem. Travel expense, food, whatever it is, I will provide. The family fortune does nothing for me in light of what’s happened. I want my family back, whatever is left of it. There has to be something left of it. And if there isn’t...”

“Whomever is responsible will pay, Snow. I understand. Hey, you have a cell phone? Dante’s shop only has this old ass rotary phone and this is going to make follow-up information inconvenient.”

“He has a... wow and I thought my... never mind, no time to mull over antiquated trinkets. Yes, I do. Here...” She gave him her number, but then also information for contact through a third party chatting app. “Normal international calling and stuff is expensive and a pain to set up. I’m going to pull strings and get a private aircraft to pick you up, and I’m not going to make you come all the way here without gear or prep, so normal transportation won’t do. Is there anyone else you would like to bring?”

Nero glanced at Nico, and asked without preamble: “Nico, want a trip to Hong Kong?”

“We go where the job goes, don’t we?” She grinned, not showing her concern yet over what little she’s heard. 

“Yeah, my mechanic, Nico. Hey, think this aircraft of yours can fit an RV in it?”

“An RV? Ah, yes, you said you ran a mobile branch. I can make that happen, yes. And I can text you all of the rest of the details. Working it out on my laptop right now, and I need to make a few calls...”

“Sounds good. Hey, Snow?”

“Yes...?”

“Hang in there. We’re going to help you.”

He didn’t know what exactly possessed him to layer on the reassurance. Maybe it’s because he could understand what it was like to be in her shoes. 

“...Thank you. I’m sorry, I forgot your name already...”

“It’s Nero.”

“Nero? That’s a nice name.”

“Heh, so people tell me. Yours ain’t half bad either.”

“Ah... again, thank you, Nero. And... just to ease my conscience, I would like to inform you that you and yours will be paid. Even if something happens to me—”

“No. I mean no to the what-if’s. Don’t worry about that. You stay safe.”

A pause. 

And then: “I’m scared. But you give me hope. May we meet soon, Nero.”

They ended the call, and Nico finally had the room to ask: “What is it? Big job? You got this look on your face. Kinda this ‘I’m troubled’ look.”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you about it in a moment. Let me call Kyrie, first.”

As he picked up the receiver once again, his cell phone buzzed in his pocket, no doubt contact from Snow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading the first chapter to this work! I am immensely nervous about this, but I certainly don’t want to over-pad this section with pointless rambling, so I’ll get to some more interesting points:
> 
> -There will be, of course, fluff and drama and all manners of things befitting something tagged “canon character x OC” that I hope will live up to all of the other wonderful xOC fics out there.  
> -This is going to sound cryptic as hell but I want to hang this here: “This is the alternative to what you could have. This is still something that you could have. This is something we are willing to give you. Welcome to the family.”  
> -I have realized two weeks after writing this draft that, oh, apparently Nell Goldstein’s ex-husband’s name was Roy. In most cases I would be changing an OC’s name, but in this case, I refuse to change Roy King’s name due to the fact that I have had some of these OCs for almost ten years. But you know what’s crazy? Roy and his brother aren’t even meant to be the main focus of the work either. And it is totally not crazy for people to have the same first names. I highly doubt Nico is going to care at all or even notice.  
> -Speaking of names; I love talking to other people about why they chose the names they do for their OCs, so I will talk about some of that here. When I was crafting Sera, I wanted to allude her to something angelic (because Nero’s wings oh my those wings), but not make her an actual celestial. I considered “Celeste” or “Angel” but both names felt too… soft. A bit too pure. I wanted to go the route that Nero’s mom was a warrior in her own right, either by combat skill or just by having a warrior’s soul. So I picked out Seraphina, to allude to the Seraphim. Happens to be my favorite order of angel, if that wasn’t obvious. (Admittingly an Archangel might have been more fitting of a theme for a warrior but that doesn’t make a good first name.)  
> -I used to write tacky poetry, years and years ago, when I was still in school. I hope I haven’t lost my touch, and that I’m not too terrible. (That “Distinguished” grade on my school writing portfolio hopefully accounted for something…)  
> -80% of my writing is done on a cell phone. :’D slow updates are definitely because of that.


	2. Family Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there is a key, then there must be a door. 
> 
> There are questions about the key's last-known owner. There are still questions about Sera, herself. But beyond that, Dante still has questions swimming in his head regarding his own brother, now more than ever. 
> 
> Meanwhile, Nero works at breaking the proverbial ice. Can he trust Snow? More importantly, can he get Snow to trust him? The first part of a job often means getting to know the client, after all.

_Mirror mirror of my heart,  
_ _Who’s the one that owns my love?_

 _Is it mother, merciful and serene?  
_ _Is it father, sharp and keen?_

 _Is love lasting after the toll bells ring?  
_ _Can it endure under the masses who sing:  
_ _“Oh what shame, but their sins remain!”_

 _Is love a history so doomed to repeat  
_ _That it cares not the tragedies it may reap?_

 _Mirror mirror of loyal love,  
_ _There’s a devil’s claw in my heart._

* * *

When Sera handed the shield over to Vergil, he expected a jolt or any form of testing temper from the item. It was definitely some form of devil arm, that much he was certain. But he got the feeling akin to having beheld a yawning beast who opened one eye to appraise him, determined that he was not the true master, and went back to sleep. 

That won’t do. Without ample time or resources, research would not be feasible through ideal means. And that’s besides the point on how a library is hardly accessible in Hell. (They would not exist outside of guarded territory. And guarded territory meant trouble.)

So, with a frown, Vergil pushed his will upon the shield, and asked it a simple question: _Where is your master?_

There came an annoyed response, in the form of a feeling, not unlike when Yamato hummed in want of something. It was pulling lightly in a direction now. Curious that it yielded...

Beside him, Dante asked: “Sooooo, figured anything out, Verge?”

“...Will you stop improperly referring to me by only half my name? Or would you prefer I start calling you Dan?” He snapped back. 

“Hey, Dan and Dante don’t even remotely sound like it’s referring to the same name!”

The argument didn’t actually continue, because this was honestly an old and moot point. Dante won’t ever stop calling him ‘Verge’ at times, though Vergil will never actually call Dante ‘Dan’ either because it was just plain stupid. Truly, he snapped back just to snap at his brother. 

He turned his attention back towards Sera: “I believe this weapon at the very least can recognize its master, and may lead us to him. If we can find this person named Roy, then maybe we can understand how this would be the instrument to leaving Hell. I do have a concern, however...”

“Mmm-Hmm...” Sera nodded for him to continue. 

“If this is some manner of key, there stands to reason that there is a gate, which Roy came through. If this key had been at large in the Demon World instead of being in his possession, something else might have taken it and tried to break into the human realm by now. He must have come here for a reason, and that reason may not be benign.”

Sera seemed intrigued by his observations. “You’re not entirely wrong. When he saved me, it was probably out of morbid curiosity over my state of being, being a human drinking demon blood and rampaging across Hell. Of course, feel free to be skeptical about what he told me...” She waved an arm in the air, as if to punctuate her point. “But he did indeed come to Hell by his own volition. He said his family members had been disappearing, and he had a hunch it had something to do with Hell. At the time, the only pressing matter on my mind was that I needed to leave this place, even though I do not know why. Despite my hysteria, he offered me a deal. If I assisted him, he would be sure to bring me back to the human realm when he’s ready to leave.”

“A generous offer... though somewhat easy to distrust...” Vergil muttered. 

Dante put in his two cents here: “True. Kind of hard to just... believe that at face value. Everything in hell wants to get out of hell. Present company included. Why would he just offer that to a stranger?”

Sera shrugged. “I was only barely getting my bearings back together. Foggy memory is slow to return. But through the time I spent traveling with him, he spoke a lot about his family, in a manner that felt genuine. He’s worried, both for the people that are missing, and those still back at home. Some of the conversation helped me remember some of my past. And as for further trust...” She then sighed, sounding exasperated:

“He’s a heck of a lot stronger than me. I can’t contend against part-devils, high on demon blood or no demon blood. He could have killed me when he found me in my rampage. But I was spared when he realized I wasn’t myself. And he had ample chances to kill me during our travels, too. While I am somewhat miffed at how lacking my strength is compared to his, I think the fact that I’m still alive and intact is enough for me to regard him as an ally as opposed to an enemy.”

This set off alarm bells. Dante immediately questioned: “Part-devil?”

She nodded. “I asked him why he was certain I was human and not a demon, since I couldn’t remember who I was at the time. He told me, after a lifetime of doing his line of work, he knows what smells like human with demonic influence and what smelled like kin. He kind of had to explain to me then that he and most of his family were part-devils, and hunters of demons. Which is kind of odd but... Saviour bless them, if Sparda was a devil who fought against his own kind for the betterment of the human realm, then I have no room to judge Roy’s family.”

Dante cringed upon hearing verbiage from good ‘ol Fortuna. 

Vergil followed up with his own question: “Your friend, what did he look like?”

“Hmm... black hair? Violet eyes? Kind of tan. About my height. Looked very... foreign, to me. But I remember that I apparently lived on an isolated island so it would stand to reason he’s probably from somewhere I’ve never been to before. Oh and on several occasions I’ve heard him speak in a language I didn’t understand, so I think that confirms my point. He seemed very stressed...”

Once again, Dante looked towards his brother to attempt to ascertain what his thoughts on the matter was. He suspected Vergil asked the question because devil-hybrids were rare to begin with, and among that small population could easily contain lingering ties that may bode more ill than good. But did this description really answer anything? They didn’t have hard evidence that white hair and blue eyes were mandatory to the Sparda bloodline. And even if they weren’t related, who’s to say the Devil that Roy would be related to isn’t an enemy of Sparda? (It’s always safe to assume that things related to Hell hates anything to do with Sparda…)

And then Vergil proved that he was thinking similar thoughts by stating: “This shield. It’s a Devil Arm, but it doesn’t feel like a demon that has submitted itself to weapon-form. So it was something forged with devil power. I suspect this was given to Roy by someone close to him. And the power in this weapon is not from a Devil I recognize.” So at the very least, no direct ties to Sparda on that front; still possibly antagonistic, however. “Sera, if you hold this, can you also feel it pulling towards a direction? It should lead us to its master.” He handed it back to Sera. 

She took it back with care, and while she concentrated on something, Dante finally took a good look at the shield. It was fancy. Very fancy. The main material of the shield was something otherworldly; crystalline and inherently lit in prismatic colours. It reminded Dante a bit of those LED lights that were meant to light up a dim room in shifting rainbows, but classier. Some sort of dark and glossy material lined the shield edges, and made an interesting hexagon in the center of the shield. A cross shape was inside said hexagon. 

It looked like the type of thing that would be a family heirloom. 

Dante can't say he's had good luck in dealing with family heirlooms. Been stabbed by one too many, in some way or another. But surely a shield can't stab him, now, can it?

He made a muffled laugh at his own thought. Vergil looked over towards him, expression impassive, but Dante knew he was thinking ‘ _what is going on in that idiot head of yours now?_ ’

Sera broke the moment of musing by finally answering: "Yes, I can feel it pointing me in a direction. Would our plan be to rendezvous with Roy?"

"For the time being, that would be the first step. There is another concern that needs to be addressed. He gave you this shield due to an ambush, correct? What attacked you?" 

Vergil's question was something Dante wanted the answer to, also. It was important for many reasons. One of the not-so-obvious reasons would be... it's something new to fight. 

"It all happened really fast." She responded as she strapped the shield back behind her. "The only things I really remember would be purple armor, and a very dangerous scorpion tail. I was hardly allowed to put up much of a fight before Roy cursed up a storm, shoved this shield into my arms, and told me to run with the single instruction that I can't let it fall into that devil's hands."

"Sound like anyone familiar?" Dante asked Vergil. 

“No. But there’s a good chance we will run into this devil. Now we can only hope your friend Roy survived the encounter.”

Sera could only nod, and the newfound party of three began to move in one direction. She had briefly looked as if she wanted to ask something, but had put it off.

Dante felt like he had 1000 concerns and 1000 questions. None of which he could speak to Vergil about without Sera overhearing. 

Damn, now he wished the fabled ‘twin telepathy’ was something real. 

* * *

“It sounds like Miss Snow is going through a very tough moment in her life. I’m glad you’ll be able to help her, Nero.” Kyrie, ever so supportive and understanding, responded in only the most encouraging way someone could after Nero explained over the phone about the new job. 

“I just hope I’ll actually be able to help her, Kyrie. There’s no guarantee any of her family members are still alive. What if by the time we get there, it’s already too late?” He usually didn’t talk too much about work with her. The nature of his job was stressful enough already. But this one… this one was different. Sure, there were plenty of jobs involving people calling in due to family getting hurt, but this one really resounded differently. 

“Whatever happens, I’m sure she would do better with your presence than without it. Right now, she’s there, all alone, isn’t she?”

“Yeah…” 

Not much more needed to be explained. Nero knew that it was like being alone. He and Kyrie both knew what it was like to lose family. 

“Give her my regards when you see her, Nero. I’ll pray for a happy outcome to all of this. And I know you will always do your best for people who need help.”

“I will. Thanks, Kyrie. Sorry I woke you up just to let you know I’ll be home later than I thought.”

He knew she was probably smiling like the guardian angel she was on the other line when she responded: “It’s fine. I’m glad you allowed me to know what’s going on.” There was the unspoken acknowledgement that he had learnt his lesson from last time, when he left for Redgrave with nary a word to her. 

“Good night, Kyrie. I love you.” Three very simple words. They will always mean so much.

“Love you, too. Get some rest before your trip.”

When he hung up, Nico piped up from the other end of the office: “You done over there, lovebird? Tell me what’s got us taking a trip down to Hong Kong.”

“I don’t know everything yet, so I’ll tell you what I know while I try to get some more information from the client.”

Nero pulled open the chatting app to ask Snow a few follow up questions over text while explaining the general idea to Nico. Snow had already sent him some basics to confirm his general location to try and figure out the where and when of pickup. After leaving the transport details off with her waiting on contact back for arrangements on her side, he decided it was time to ask for some other details.

 _‘Any clue you can give me on why your family is targeted?’_ He tried not to single her out, even though she had mentioned she was a prime target. 

_‘It’s got something to do with my family history. It’s not easy to talk about.’_

He scoffed a bit when the response came in. Complicated family history? He doubted it was anything as messed up as his apparent family history. But he also understood that, just like how his family history was none of her business, the opposite held true. For now, at least. 

_‘So, your whole family are demon hunters?’_ He asked instead. 

_‘So to speak. Out of the kids of the family, I’m the only full time hunter. I’m also the oldest and chose hunting over schooling. Most of my older cousins only take on jobs during summer break since coming of age, or something like that. I think the family is trying to convince those younger than 18 to NOT go into hunting.’_

Nero didn't really have much to say on the age matter. He was already a knight of the Order by the time he was 17, and he worked mostly solo missions, though under the close guidance of the Supreme General. (His heart clenched at the thought of Credo.)

But there were more important things to pay attention to right now. One being the missing family members. 

_'I know you said everyone else was taken. Who were they? I want to know the scope of what we're working with.'_

The "is typing" animation floated there for a long while, and he patiently waited for the response back.

_'My family is pretty big. I don't think giving you names would mean anything right now. I can show you photos when you arrive. But there's my mother. Her two older brothers, my uncles. And then seven cousins, who are my uncle's kids.'_

Nero's brow nearly rose into his hairline. "Damn." 

"What are you damning, oh Saviour’s grandson?" Nico asked from the other couch. 

"Shut up Nico.” He’s really hoping her newfound joke would wear out and fade away soon. It’s been over two months and he’s beginning to lose hope. “It’s nothing. She lives with a big family, is all." He did some quick math. "Ten other people. Mom, two uncles, and a bunch of cousins."

"That's all of her family, which were all kidnapped?"

"Yeah."

"Huh. Weird."

"What's weird?" Nero finally looked up from his phone. 

Nico had been laying down comfortably, and propped her head up with her arm to look at him, the other arm waving in the air while she explained what was on her mind:

"They're a hunter family, right? Are they also a foster home? There's her mom, and then her two uncles. Sooooo... I mean, maybe her daddy's outta the picture already. Is her aunt or aunts also out of the picture?"

He suddenly remembered the actual phone call. "She said she buried her aunt. And one of her uncles jumped through a portal to Hell."

"Hold up here! Pause!" Nico made the pause motion with her hands, and sat up. "Two concerns here. First, pretty sure people don't just go in and out of Hell on whim. Any time we've dealt with that, a catastrophe's involved. Second of all: just her aunt? Every other family member kidnapped or hopped on over into Hell, and her aunt is the only fatal casualty?"

"I don't know, Nico! Maybe her aunt's body was the only one she found? I'm not saying this isn't weird, but she might be genuinely upset right now! I’m trying to get answers subtly here.” Nero threw his hands up while still holding his phone. For extra measure he should have thrown his wing-claws up, too. But he didn’t. “Let me respond to her first. Then we continue this conversation.”

Trying to choose his words carefully, he decided to ask about her aunt, first: _‘I know this is still a fresh wound for you, but you said you buried your aunt recently. She’s the only fatality?’_

As he waited for a response, he continued with Nico: “I think the question on how her uncle could jump into Hell would be something hard to get answers to…”

“Yeah. Breaking the barriers to create a portal isn’t some easy feat, and definitely not something super easy to hide. Not everyone’s got your daddy’s fancy sword. I’m looking up the news online right now, and nothing seems to be amiss over in Hong Kong. So…” Nico flicked through search results on her phone as she spoke, and Nero scowled at the way she referred to the Yamato. 

Still, there were more pressing matters: “Think it’s a trap?”

“Not sure. I’m willing to give benefit of doubt. Maybe she’s exaggerating? Using the wrong turn of phrase? Not everyone in Hong Kong speaks English as their main language.”

Nero thought on that, and then Snow’s response came through:

_‘I understand what you’re asking. And why you’re asking. My aunt was… different from the rest of us. She married into the family. She wasn’t blood kin. I watched them drag my mother away, and at that same scene, they killed my aunt.’_

Blood kin. 

Snow’s aunt was her cousins’ mother. Yet she was given different treatment.

Taking titles at face value, Snow’s mother would be her mother by blood. Snow’s uncles would be related to her mother by blood. Snow’s cousins would be related to her mother and her uncles by blood. And they were all taken.

Her uncle’s wife was not taken. She was killed. 

They were a family of hunters. They had something important and powerful, and something came through from Hell to take it from them. They somehow had the ability to go to Hell itself, however they managed it. 

He had to ask.

_‘Snow. Please don’t get mad at my next question.’_

_‘I’ve risked so much already. I’m prepared for your questions.’_

_‘What are you and your family?’_

He was anxious of her answer. He set his phone down beside him and brought his hands to his face, letting out a tired sigh. 

“Well?” Nico pressed. 

“Hold on. Give her a bit.”

He thought he was going to wait a long time. He was wrong. The phone pinged after a scant few seconds:

_‘I have a counter-question prepared. Nero, why do you hunt demons?’_

Nero’s mouth felt dry upon reading this. He had suspicions. And if his hunch was correct, then he understood exactly why she wanted to know. 

But this question… there wasn’t an easy answer to this. How was he supposed to answer this without having to show his own hand (which, once, would have been in a literal sense) coupled with several winded stories in order to answer the ‘why’ of his motivations?

He needed time to think. 

_‘That’s a loaded question. Can I have some time?’_

The response was immediate: _‘Your transport should arrive in 8 hours. Express private, faster than anything public. Surprised we had something this state-of-the-art under our belt. Give me your answer by then… if you decide to decline, I understand. Get some rest.’_

Nero stared at the message. There was a lot to digest. Hong Kong was almost on the other side of the earth from them. Almost. But far enough for a flight to be over half a day. There was also the fact he didn’t want her to wait _that_ long for his answer, either. If her distress were true, then he couldn’t bear that idea that she was going to worry for the next eight hours if he was actually going to help her or not. 

_‘Hey, I’m still coming. I just want to make sure to give you a good answer. Some private thoughts to sort through, you know. Rest up, too. Stay safe. We’re coming.’_

The only response he could take comfort in receiving that night was a simple one: _‘Thank you.’_

By the time he looked up from his phone again, Nico was staring intently at him. “Welllllllll?” She asked again. 

With a heaved sigh, he outlined their last exchange to her. 

* * *

It really didn't take long before more demons thinking they could take them on appeared. This time, Dante noticed that these demons weren't all like what they had typically fought before. 

If Empusas could be referred to as demonic ants, then whatever it was they were fighting now were demonic wasps. Strangely slightly humanoid demonic wasps that could be mistaken for very mean looking fairies. 

Regardless, what they were didn't matter in the scheme of survival. The fresh faces meant nothing, and it was hardly a challenge for Dante or Vergil. The greatest annoyance of the fight was simply that it was a swarm. 

At first, the trio had spread out. Dante swept through his section with his usual myriad style; he even still had the double Kalina Ann with him, and took great delight in making use of its docking power. (Lady was bound to make exaggerated demands from him when he finally got back. But more importantly than that, Nico was _good_. Oh he didn’t have doubts, but damn she lives up to Nell’s legacy, maybe even surpassed it.) 

To the other side, Vergil held up perfectly with only the Yamato and his summoned swords. But Dante wasn’t really focused on (nor should he need to worry about) how well Vergil did against such trifling opponents.

Sera held her own quite well. Dante briefly recalled Vergil mentioning that she was a formidable knight in her own right. Unfortunately, that didn't give him much to go off on, since by the time he went to Fortuna, most of the Order had turned themselves into monsters. 

He did find some interesting parallels to the manner which she fought. Some of her attacks were very reminiscent of Nero's combos, and that was very curious. 

Dante hadn’t pried too much into Nero's life details, in part because he was both afraid and uncertain exactly how close he should get with the kid. But he did remember that Nero accredited his sword training and skills to Kyrie's older brother, Credo. With all three of them having been connected to the order, maybe Dante shouldn't be overly surprised at their combat maneuvers overlapping.

There was also the matter of Sera's weapons themselves. Devil arms? Did she find them while here in Hell? Or was it something from the Order's collections? (If so, that's going to be one heck of a no-return fee.)

The way she was fighting currently, however... Despite dual-wielding, she fought with the rapier in her left hand, while the weapon in her right remained coiled up her arm; she kept her right arm at her back. Well, now Dante felt curious. So he made his way through the swarm, and battled his way just near enough to shout:

“Hey, Sera! How are you holding up?”

“Not as well as you, it seems.” She sounded disgruntled. Disappointed in her own performance? 

“Hey, you seem to be doing plenty fine.” He made sure to give her a thumbs up… in the middle of blasting another four demon-wasps out the air with Ivory. 

That only served to make her sigh. She glanced on over towards Vergil, who wasn’t really holding back in the style department. Enemies of this caliber were simply sliced apart like paper. Dante caught a glimpse of Sera’s expression turning from displeasure to something forlorn… but that lasted all of two seconds before she turned back to Dante and said, or more like commanded: “Move.”

Far be it from him to stand between someone and their prey; he knew how to read a hunter’s intention well enough, as he knew exactly what was behind him and what her intentions were. And he wanted to see what she could do. As he sidestepped, she moved towards the other side, and they effectively did a smooth switching of positions, putting him at her back in case the swarm came back in from that direction, and her facing what was once behind him. Blade still in her left hand, she dashed forward and lashed out with her right arm.

Dante wasn’t one to really worry about his back in a fight like this, so he half-turned about to take a gander at Sera’s performance. The weapon that was wound about her right arm unfurled and the bladed-whip sliced through several demons about her like a dancing ribbon. 

He felt like he’d seen something similar before. Or was he just projecting one thing onto another now, in hopes that the relation between this Sera and his family was something true? 

As she continued forward, she gradually increased combat tempo. Seeing that she could take care of herself, Dante decided it was time to get back to work. And it appeared he was already late to clock back in, because he turned to find Vergil teleporting a step away from him, glowering: “You’re wasting time, Dante.”

“Nah, just sizing up how our new companion’s skills hold up.” He responded first, then his Devil Sword flashed to his hand for a swing at another demon that got too close. “See, I’m doing work!”

A single summoned sword shot out towards him, but Dante knew this song and dance easily based off of what was around them. He tilted his body just enough to let the blue blade sing past him, and heard the blade pierce through two bodies. 

“This encounter is meaningless. Something most likely wants the key, but decided it was beneath them to take it themselves. Clearly they were hoping to simply overwhelm her with numbers, as anything less would be swept aside by her. We should simply end this.”

Vergil just had to be difficult in his meanings, instead of simply saying that he was also done observing their new companion. Dante wanted to quip about that, but before he got a word out, he heard a yelp from Sera, and saw Vergil tense. 

The elder twin immediately trick-teleported. Dante was a step behind; his trickster’s skills were not as snappy as Vergil’s, as the two of them tend to use their displacement skills for different purposes. 

Sera had taken a nasty stinger to the back of her left shoulder; the offending demon that stung her was probably the one pinned into the bloody ground by a summoned sword. 

To give the knight her credit, she wasn't down on the ground yet. But by how the rapier that was once in her left hand was now on the ground, and the way the long bladed whip of her right hand pooled at her feet, she was hurting bad. 

The moment Dante arrived in step, Vergil took a step back: "This has gone on long enough. Don't move." He told them both. Without waiting for a response, he took one more step back to get into a familiar stance, and burst into his Devil Trigger. The air about them hummed in palpable energy. 

Dante hadn't felt this buildup of energy in a while. Vergil hadn't executed Judgement Cut in a wide scale since the Qliphoth, not since Nero put an end to their duels to the death. It's odd how the lack of an action could be a sign that things could get better, and Dante didn't even realize that until now.

Except now, Vergil decided on no more holding back, and Dante couldn't help but feel giddy. The attack wasn't directed at him this time. He stood right there with Sera, three paces away from his brother as opposed further away, and placed one hand under her right arm to steady her: 

"This should be a spectacle." He just grinned at her and settled his attention back on Vergil. 

Yamato's power built, and then spiked. The space about them distorted like the shattering of a mirror, except clean and precise, as opposed to messy and discordant. The area about Dante and Sera remained untouched, but everything else was caught in the spatial rend. Demonic wasps fell out of the air like snow, slowly turning to ash and dust. 

Vergil let go of his Devil Trigger in a dissolution of blue flames as he turned back towards them. Dante felt something surprisingly light in his heart, but didn’t have time to process it, because Sera was more important at this moment. He still had a hold under her right arm, and looked over to gauge her reaction at Vergil’s performance. 

She had that measuring gaze again, this time softer, lips slightly parted. She opened her mouth to say something, but then decided against it. Taking her gaze from Vergil, she reclaimed her arm from Dante’s grasp, stumbled half a step to the left, and groaned in pain as her right hand reached for her left shoulder. 

“Hey, you going to be alright?” Dante asked. “Do you, uh… if we pull that out, can you heal?” An unlikely scenario, but they also don’t know what effects lingered from her apparent relationship with being a ‘human vampire’ feeding on demon’s blood… and the stinger protruding from her shoulder was at least the length of her own hand, if not longer. 

“At this point? I don’t know anymore. The healing is fastest after I’ve ingested blood, but at the same time, that means my mind gets fuzzier the more I drink. Surprisingly, part-devil blood was working okay for me. The healing was slower but it kept me from dying. I wasn’t getting an obscene amount of power boosts from it but I’d rather take that over losing my sense of self. But… the last time I fed was quite a while before Roy and I were separated. And I can’t say I know how long it’s been since I was told to run.”

During her explanation, Vergil had handed her the weapon she had dropped, and began inspecting her wound. She didn’t react beyond a light wince when he brushed his fingertips about his shoulder, wiping away some of the blood to determine if she was still bleeding. He paused and looked up from her shoulder to ask: “Your friend fed you his blood?”

“A gamble to take from a stranger’s suggestion, I know. But it seems I have a track record for travelling with strangers, don’t I?” 

Dante noticed Vergil’s gaze flickering ever so slightly before completely looking away, back down at her shoulder. 

“...I shouldn’t have to state the obvious now that you have seen me as a devil, do I?” He instead asked her. 

“Hmmm… The seeds of evil are planted not by blood, but by hands. Fear not what runs in the veins; fear what choices may taint the heart.”

And then five heartbeats worth of silence. 

“...I said something weird, didn’t I?” She looked away, almost in panic. 

Dante couldn’t hold back his laugh anymore. “That was pretty impressive. Remembered that from something you’d read?”

“I don’t think so? It was just… a thought.” 

“You should write that down.” Vergil said softly.

Another beat of silence, as Dante tried to bite down a joke about writing it down in blood, nevermind that there was no paper to go along with the lack of a pen. Sera, however, was trying to read something in Vergil’s expression. 

“I know you from somewhere, don’t I? I could have sworn I’ve heard you tell me that before.” She stared. 

But Vergil didn’t seem ready to deal with that question. Instead, he rolled up his left sleeve, unsheathed Yamato, cut deep into the inside of his left arm, and held it out in front of her: “Drink. The stinger isn’t venomous, but removing it will cause further damage to the wound, which you will need to heal from.”

“Oh, um…” Sera was startled, and somewhat flustered by this. She glanced between Vergil and Dante, and winced when she turned her head towards Dante because the muscles pulled at the wound painfully. “I, uh… I have fangs actually, but… Well I guess that’s not really appropriate.”

“Drink.” Vergil insisted again. “Before the wound closes, which I would then need to cut open again.”

She yelped, and rushed an apology before tentatively bringing her hands to his forearm, and shyly lapped up the flowing blood. By the time the wound closed, her lips left his skin, and her tongue ran across her bottom lip for any of the red fluid that remained. She then reached towards her shoulder, grabbed the stinger, and pulled the stinger out without preamble, tossing the offending item to the ground. 

Dante couldn’t help but be impressed by that, even though he’s seen Lady tough out plenty of things. “You’re one tough cookie, if I do say so myself.”

Vergil examined her shoulder wound again. “It’s healing, but slowly.”

“Not quite enough blood…” She muttered abashedly. 

“Then you may have more. If those fangs of yours can break skin, then use them.” He presented his arm to her again. 

Sera was certainly shocked by this. “You would let me actually bite you?”

“Would you prefer I cut the vein open myself for you again?”

“I…” Her protest died at the tip of her tongue as she changed her mind: “No. Thank you. I’m just… taken aback, is all. You are…” She seemed lost in thought as she continued softly: “You are as generous as you are ethereal.”

Vergil’s expression remained impassive, but Dante shifted on his feet uncomfortably as he watched Sera open her mouth, her canines elongating just enough to bring down into the vein in Vergil’s arm. 

The younger brother ended up turning his head to examine anything but the scene in front of him in interest. Logically speaking, it didn’t have to be Vergil. She just needed demon blood to survive on until she got out of hell. Dante could have offered, too. 

Except this wasn’t just about her needing the blood anymore, was it?

After what felt like a long while, he glanced back to see Sera finally shifting from the position they had been in, fangs receding. But she didn’t back off completely. As the wound she opened healed, she ran the tip of her tongue over it gently, cleaning it off as it closed. Vergil appeared unaffected by the whole thing, and asked as she finally let go: “Will that be enough?”

“Enough to let me heal, yes.” Yet she stumbled, and he shifted over to catch her. “Sorry… I don’t think I’ve rested in a long time, either.” She mumbled into his shoulder. 

No further words were exchanged. Vergil finally looked up at Dante, who had been awkwardly standing at the side of this scene for the entirety of it. Dante could tell from the way Sera’s breathing changed that she had fallen asleep; in his brother’s arms, no less. 

Once again, 1000 concerns and 1000 questions surfaced. Would he be able to voice them, now?

“You’ve managed to keep your mouth shut for a while now, which must have been difficult, little brother.” Of course, Vergil never could be nice about stating his observations, could he?

Fine. Cut to the chase, then: “Think she’s the real deal?” He nodded towards Sera and asked. 

And then Vergil reminded Dante that the older brother, for all his attitude and his pride, had a completely different baseline of what typical behavior choices were. Sera’s shoulder wound was mostly healed, but there was still drying blood about it. Shifting Yamato from his right hand to his left, he then wiped off some of the thickening red from her shoulder with the knuckle joint of his index finger. 

Dante watched first with curiosity when Vergil briefly sniffed at her blood on his finger. Demon sense could tell a lot, though Dante can’t say he was the most practiced at it. Having been in the demon world for so long, Vergil might have honed his sense of smell to be more keen. 

And then Vergil licked the fluid off his finger. 

“Okay, that’s not sanitary, and it’s gross. What are you, a beast?” Dante jabbed verbally, unable to contain the instinct to give his brother hell over everything he did, warranted or not. 

“We’re half-devils, Dante. If the devil side had its way, we’d be bathing in blood, much less simply ingesting it. Blood is power, though not always containable or usable in predictable ways. You _have_ been told that human blood is a prime source of power for demons.”

“Yeah. For demons. I have my own blood, thank you. I don’t need other people’s blood. So, what? What’s up with her blood?”

“Human, at its core. She conditioned her body to take in demonic influence, and is lucky she hadn’t come across any nasty parasites that would have stripped her of everything human about her. There’s a faint taste of something else in it, similar to the power in that shield. A byproduct of being fed by her friend, I’d think.” There was a momentary scowl before he shifted to try and wrap his arm about her more securely, though he appeared uncomfortable doing so. “It would appear she had been surviving here for a long time…” His voice dropped into a whisper that Dante wouldn’t have heard if he didn’t have demonic hearing: “Another failure on my part. She may not have suffered coming to the Underworld if I had not relied on her generosity.”

This was all the confirmation Dante needed to throw half of his concerns out the window. “There’s nothing wrong with generosity if it makes people happy. Do you know how or why she got here? Think she came looking for you?”

“I won’t know. I never told her who I was. Gave her half truths that she knew were half truths, but we had an agreement…” He was being surprisingly forthcoming with answers so far as he shifted again to actually pick her up into his arms. “Questions were allowed to be asked, but answers did not need to be forthcoming. It was agreed that not wanting to answer was more acceptable than lying.” He then surveyed the area around them. “We should find a safer area, if we are going to rest.”

Sleep was something they needed little of when they could subside on the energies of Hell. But a break wouldn’t be bad, and Dante didn’t want to dissolve what little magic there was in the air right now; Vergil wasn’t throwing a fit over resting simply because Sera had fallen asleep. He usually didn’t give other people concern, and that included his brother. 

There was a small break in conversation as they worked in coming to an agreement regarding where to go. Eventually they settled on and arrived at an enclave of rocks, and left Sera to rest with what little amenities they had to offer: Vergil’s coat became her pillow, and Dante’s coat became her blanket. Vergil had clearly wanted to object at first, but for some reason, held back. But his displeasure didn’t slip past Dante’s notice when Vergil took the red leather coat that was offered, and draped it over Sera.

“You have more questions. Now would be a good time to work them out of your system, preferably a little further away.” He said to Dante while grabbing Yamato. 

Reading the mood, Dante knew what this meant. Within visible distance from where Sera rested, Dante readied his sword. “Okay, some stakes this time, then!”

“No.”

“What?” Dante sputtered. 

“No. Because I have nothing I want from you in this conversation you want to have with me, so there can be no equal stakes. Just ask your questions while I still deign to consider giving you answers.” Before even waiting for Dante’s response, he closed the gap between them. Dante blocked Vergil’s attack without any surprise, and after they exchanged a few more blows, it was time for words to flow.

“Okay. Then let’s play it this way… If you don’t want to tell me, then just say so, alright?”

Another clash of blades, and a wary agreement: “I hardly believe that you won’t try to press any matters, Dante. It’s hardly within your character to not badger me. But very well, I’ll hold you to it.”

When Dante next stepped back to re-adjust for another clash, he started off asking: “What do you plan on doing now that she’s here?”

Vergil’s gaze hardened, and he didn’t answer immediately as they continued their duel. Not every battle was a battle of attrition, though. Within a few moves, he jabbed Yamato’s sheath hard into Dante’s gut, sending him back several paces. The combat flow paused, and so came an answer:

“Her goal was to leave in the first place, and I suppose leaving here would be inevitable, so that would be the plan. There is likely nothing I can do for her beyond that, seeing as I have caused her enough problems already. The best thing I could possibly do, if she wishes, is to give Nero the chance to meet his mother. Other than that, it’s better if I stopped meddling in each of their lives.”

Dante felt exasperated over this. “What, planning on pulling a disappearing act again? No way that’s happening on my watch.”

“So you’ve said. I’ve been under the impression that I would have no choice but to remain at the hovel that you call a shop and a home.” Once again, Vergil got into a stance in preparation for the next round. 

“Hey! I’ve held down that place for twenty something years, and it’s a perfectly serviceable home!” 

They settled into another routine of combat, until Dante blindsided Vergil and evened the “score”. It was time for another quick break. 

“You know, Nero won’t just let you walk away from everything. Shit, he’s not going to be leaving me alone anytime soon, either.”

“Your point being?” Vergil scoffed as he felt the bruising on his face fade and heal. 

“I don’t know, Verge. Maybe I’m just saying you can’t just walk away from all of your problems-” He didn’t get to finish before Vergil initiated combat again, but this time it was in a flare of anger:

“Walk away from my problems? Like you hadn’t done the same! You turned tail on your name, and your birthright! Need I remind you again?”

Now Dante was feeling a building anger, too. Why did it always come down to this? “This again? I thought we were over this! I thought you were DEAD! And I damn near wished I was dead!” The ringing of metal against metal felt like the sound of his own angered heartbeat now. 

“Well, clearly I have proven you wrong on that front, Dante. So what is it you want from me, now? You’ve pointed out before, in your words, that I’ve made a mess with every encounter!”

Another clash, and then a breakaway. They caught their breath, and Dante continued:

“You might have a point there. When you waltzed right back into my life, I _thought_ maybe everything would go right… except it didn’t. One stupid little disagreement, and I was standing between my brother and the world. And then you were gone. _And then I thought I killed you._ So here we are again.” He upped the ante, and sent his own blazing red summoned swords out. “Except…”

Vergil parried the blades with ease, and retaliated with his own bright blue summoned swords. “Except, what? Isn’t this how it always was? How it always will be?” Closing the distance, Yamato and Devil Sword Dante clashed again. 

It was almost as if they were back to ground zero… the two of them always so quick to go to the extremes. Dante almost fell back right into the old song and dance… disagree, fight it out, and let everything around him crumble to ruins. 

Again. And again. And…

And no. 

With everything he could muster, he swung a heavy swing at just the right time to knock Yamato’s swing off-course: “I just want us to be family again!” He almost triggered, evident by the reverberation of something demonic in his voice. Letting his left hand complete the rest of the swing of his sword, he took his right arm and swung out to knock Vergil back.

This time, he didn’t pause to let Vergil recover for another round. Dante followed up with a relentless tackle, knocking his brother to the ground. He then stooped down to grab Vergil’s vest, and slammed him back into ground once more to punctuate his next line: “I want what’s left of my family to be back together again. No more loss. For _both_ of us.”

Vergil said nothing, but his expression did dial away from the raw anger he had; less snarling, more stubborn glaring. Dante dipped his head, fist not leaving Vergil’s vest. “Maybe third time’s the charm…” He couldn’t stop the slight choke at the end of his words. 

He had to keep talking; maybe then he wouldn’t actually cry: “Tell me that you want all the bullshit to stop. Stop cutting away everything that you could be holding close instead. We were too young to save mom back then, just barely strong enough to survive on our own. But that was decades ago. Don’t leave again. Don’t separate this family any more than it already is.”

He received a firm kick in the stomach in answer. Seperated, Dante picked himself up from the ground feeling more emotionally shitty than physically shitty. He grimaced, waiting for Vergil to stubbornly disregard everything he’s said and continue with the fight. 

But instead, Vergil sheathed the Yamato, and remained sitting at the ground a few paces away from Dante, pensive. 

“Do you really think we can be family again?” He finally asked, and Dante wanted to immediately say yes a thousand times over. _Yes_ , and _please_ , and everything else that meant the same.

“Don’t know if we don’t try. I’ll be the first to admit that I haven’t done too well in that department, either. So we’ll both be trying here.”

“And what of her?” Vergil motioned towards where Sera was resting. “Do you think she’ll actually want any role in this messed up act of what we call family?”

“Well, isn’t that going to be up to you, then? She’s the mother of _your_ kid.”

The response was yet another scowl, but then silence. For a while, Vergil turned the Yamato about in his hands, fiddling and examining it without any actual purpose to the examinations while he thought things over. 

“We are going to have to wait for her to remember, first. And it seems that time is approaching, soon. Handling the situation might be… difficult.”

“Then we’ll just handle it one step at a time. But hey, if she put up with you back then, then she’s bound to have the heart of an angel in there somewhere, right? But I guess, now that I think on it, that might be a requirement to deal with devils and part-devils. Nero’s got Kyrie, after all…” He mused as he began to pick himself off the ground. 

Vergil followed suit. “Kyrie… yes, Nero might have mentioned her, once, to V. It might have been Nico who spoke of her, actually. Interesting…” 

“What’s interesting?”

“Nothing of importance.”

Dante wanted to press, but then he remembered the agreement from before: if he didn’t want to answer, then he didn’t want to answer. So he closed his mouth, and Vergil actually had the gall to give him a nod of approval: “Good, you’re holding up to the agreement.”

“Hey, don’t be an ass about it.”

They made their way back to where Sera slept. She had clearly moved at some point, tucking her arm under the makeshift pillow that was Vergil’s coat. 

“...A nap really sounds good about now.” Dante muttered. “A nap, and pizza. I can’t wait to get home. This hellhole is getting old.”

“I fail to see how your dump of a home is any better.” Vergil drawled. But now the banter was feeling less hostile. They were back to bickering for the sake of bickering again. 

“I’ve got a bed and a shower there, at least. Wouldn’t you at least want to be clean of all this stench and filth?”

Vergil sighed; it was rare he showed exasperation in such a way. “Get some rest, Dante. I’ll keep watch.”

Dante stared at him as the older twin sat down a few paces away, sword ready at his side for any signs of danger.

“Well? Or are you going to spend the remainder of this break being difficult?”

“What about you? You should probably get some rest, too. Devil or not, you did just donate blood.” He chuckled. 

“By the time I wake you, if Sera still has not risen, we can change watch.”

“...You won’t be running off while I get some shut-eye, will you?”

Vergil shot him a withering look. “If I said I promise I’d still be here, would you believe me?”

“Actually? Yeah. I would. That’s all you had to say, Verge.”

 _Well, that’s all you had to say, Mr. Poetry._

He looked off into the distance. “I will still be here, Dante. I promise.”

…

A few moments later, Dante muttered from his barely comfortable position somewhere behind Vergil: “Hey, Verge… what you did earlier, to get rid of all of those demons…”

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, Dante. In fact, it’s nothing you haven’t experienced yourself.” 

“That’s why that’s new. You didn’t cut me with it this time. You cut around us. Never seen you do that, even if I thought you could. Pretty cool, if you’d ask me.”

“I didn’t do it for you, imbecile.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, anyway. Just take it.” He knew it wasn’t for him, and it’s not like he needed help against paper-demon-wasps. But how was he supposed to tell Vergil that, at that moment, he _wished_ that it would have been a moment of their past? That this is what they could have had if they weren’t separated so young:

To know that if things got rough, he had his older brother at his side, to help him find his way?

* * *

“Wow. An entire landing strip reserved, just for this. And a private jet, big enough to load this entire bad-boy.” Nico whistled as she leaned against the Devil May Cry RV. “Got some alarm bells ringing, here. Rich girl asking for help related to demon-stuff, with family members jumping into Hell. Sure we shouldn’t call Trish and Lady in on this?”

“I told Kyrie already that if we don’t send her updates within three days, she should contact them. But for now, I don’t want to make this more complicated for the client.” Nero didn’t want to feel uncertain about this job. 

“Annnnnd speaking of our client, you going to contact Snow White?”

While Nico took another drag of her cigarette, Nero inhaled nervously. “Yeah, I need to. And put that out. Pretty sure they aren’t going to let you smoke that shit in the jet.”

He didn’t have to look up from dialing to know that Nico was rolling her eyes when she responded: “That’s why I’m having one _now_ , duh.”

Two rings, and he heard the line pick up: “Hello?”

“Hey, Snow.”

“Hello Nero.” She sounded tired, and anxious. She waited for him to speak.

“I thought about how I wanted to answer your question, and… I wanted to ask you: do you know why the business is called Devil May Cry?”

“I would assume that, like my family, the business name has its origins related to something personal. So… tell me. I would like to know.”

“Story has it, even a devil may cry when they’ve lost a loved one.” He heard it from Lady, when she told her story. He can’t guarantee those were the exact words, but he knew in his heart that the meaning didn’t change. 

“...Devil May Cry… a devil may cry when they’ve lost a loved one…”

“There’s a lot of reasons why I ended up in the devil hunting business. But fundamentally, I’ve seen devils hurt people. I’ve seen people hurt people. And I’ve seen people hurt devils, and devils hurt devils. People hurting others… I have to leave that for the authorities for the most part. But devils and monsters hurting others? I’m equipped to deal with that, for the sake of helping others. So that less people have to cry, be it human, or devil.” 

He thought of the people killed by demons. He thought of the people who bullied him growing up. He thought of how hurt Dante and Vergil actually were. He thought of how Sanctus and so many others had turned into monsters. 

Snow had been silent. He gave her time to reply. 

And finally, she did: 

“I had heard through whispers that Dante is half devil. That he is the son of Sparda. I called Devil May Cry hoping to enlist his help because I believed he would be the only one that might understand how difficult of a situation I was in. I was desperate when I decided to take your help instead, when I didn’t know who you were or if I could trust you. But Dante trusts you, doesn’t he?”

_We’re trusting you with things on this side, capisce?_

“If he didn’t, then I don’t think he would have allowed me to carry around the business name.” Nero faintly realized yet again how deeply it meant when Dante sent him the sign. 

“I… my family by blood are all part-devil. We are related to a devil who was called Aegis. And Aegis… in simple terms, guarded a specific naturally occurring hellgate, which happens to be below...my very house...”

“Your property value must be shit, then.”

She laughed, unrestrained and mirthful. “Ah, well, not unless you’re a demon looking for a safe and easy way to constantly go between worlds. In which case, they can’t have it without it being over my dead body.”

“We’ll do more than put up a last stand. When we arrive, we’ll beat back those demons and get your family back.”

“I… I’m grateful. I’ll give you more details when you arrive. Safe travels, Nero, and Nicoletta.”

When he hung up, Nico immediately mimicked: “‘Even a devil may cry!’ You’re so sappy, Nero.”

“Yeah, lay off, Nico. I’m not the one that named the business. But I’d say the tacky business name came in handy this time.” 

“So, what about that hunch of yours?”

“She’s a part-devil. Most of her family is. But that’s not the only thing. They live right on top of a hellgate.” 

“Hmm… Beginning to sound like one of those supernatural thrillers here. Family made a deal with a devil kind of stuff, for wealth, power, and all that jazz.” 

Nero didn’t respond as he tucked his phone back into his pocket. Nico didn’t press. 

They may not have been friends of decades, but they had gone through enough bonding trails to be close like siblings. Nico knew that Nero and his (newfound) family had a heart that would ache for what Snow might be going through right now. Okay, by newfound family, she meant Dante. Vergil was still on the list of “might not be deserving of the label of family,” and she still hadn’t moved his profile out from the enemy reports. 

Nico took one last inhale of her cigarette, and then tossed it to the ground to bring below her boot. “Well, you’re the hero of the thriller here. Let’s go kick some ass, and save the princess, partner.”

“You’re forgetting something to this story, Nico. You don’t just save the princess. You save the whole country, too.” Nero smirked at her joke.

Nico just grinned back. “You’ve done it before. You’ll do it again.”

As she moved off from leaning against the vehicle to meet up with the pilot about backing said RV into the aircraft, Nero opened the door to the passenger side. “Hold up.” He grabbed a book from the dashboard. 

V’s book, as Nico thought of it. Nero didn’t often take it with him, but recently he started to again. Guess he needed something to read for the next eight hours. 

Nico made a mental note to tease him about becoming a bookworm like V, later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Animal Crossing? What Animal Crossing? I spent Saturday being more enamored with finishing my Chapter 2 draft instead.  
> \- ...Also I'm not the only author who tears up while writing emotional moments, am I?  
> \- The Deadly Fortune material was… a mess to go through. A few things were useful but I think I can be forgiven for not taking every side material into account. When canon has its own cracks, it’s best not to pull my hair out over it… better to headcanon!  
> \- It seems that there is no concrete evidence on where the Devil May Cry office is, and Fortuna is a fictional island after all. This is fine. My vague descriptions will treat the office as being somewhere in the UK, and Fortuna to be ‘Saviour-knows-where’ in the Tyrrhenian sea (it’s near Italy.) Oh and there’s now a bridge in addition to the underwater train tunnel that connects the UK and France. Fictional version of Earth, we make what we want to exist, exist.  
> \- By the way, I have been to Hong Kong only once, and I grew up more in America than I did in mainland China. Going to just take a lot of creative liberties on what could possibly exist in Hong Kong, but that’s why this is fantasy!  
> \- I must apologize in advance, but I speak Mandarin Chinese, not Cantonese. While I don’t plan on making generous use of Chinese in this writing, there may be times the language becomes relevant. I’m not aiming for something “realistic” here as opposed to getting feelings and fluff across, so please pardon this author’s lack of authenticity in this regard.  
> \- Rawhide is my favorite Devil Breaker, though Sera’s weapons functioning the way they do were not intended to be in relation to Rawhide until I started writing. Some of this stuff is just coming to me in the middle of writing.  
> \- Speaking of weapons, I REALLY need a good name for Sera’s dual rapier-sword-whip things. Any suggestions? :’D  
> \- I do not expect for anyone to remember all of Snow’s cousins’ names. Nero and Nico certainly won’t be getting any of that straight for a while. It’s just... this is how much Snow’s family likes kids.  
> \- I just want the remains of the Sparda family to be happier, man. That makes me (and hopefully some readers) happier.  
> \- next update might be a small while, because I have chapter two of “Through the Lens of the Beholder” to work on!


	3. Bonds of Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rest before the storm is hardly ever restful. The ground that needed to be covered seemed to go past a horizon that was barely visible. Where do blood ties end and begin? 
> 
> Family.
> 
> That word is never simple. 
> 
> It’s both the blood that is shared, and the bonds that are forged. 
> 
> Dante wants to see that in his brother and the lady knight.  
> Vergil isn’t certain he knows how much he can share.  
> Nico didn’t think family was complicated: it was a title anyone can earn and lose.  
> Nero, meanwhile, can only think of one thing right now: Why can’t his family situation just be simple for once?  
> And that’s without factoring in Snow’s complication.

_Through the misty looking glass  
_ _We see only what we are willing to show.  
_ _But those small connections we make  
_ _Can still be worthwhile memories to hold._

 _The scars upon us  
_ _Like stars of the night,  
_ _Gleam of conviction  
_ _And proof of our light._

* * *

Nero was just a tad bit uncomfortable when they entered the private jet. Nico could tell. All the fancy smancy stuff can make her friend a bit out of his element. Makes her snicker. She knows Nero isn’t always rough around the edges, though. 

Oh, she’s seen him be a perfect gentleman just for Kyrie. He knows his way around fancy. He just doesn’t like it.

Not that she could blame him. She doesn’t do stuffy, either. 

The pilot had a very brief conversation with them before telling them to settle in for takeoff: 

“Associates of the Tooth and Nail? Was wondering what kind of people you would be. The King Family are known to make demands, but never from outside the territory. Though…” 

Nico saw the pilot appraise Nero up and down. It’s not uncommon. If it’s not the hair, then it’s the arm (he kept the Devil Breaker on just in case today), or just the punk look in general. 

“Their family business isn’t something for me to pry into, unless I want to get stung.”

With that cryptic mumbling, the pilot went to prepare.

“Huh… well too bad, we kind of got hired to pry into their business…” Nero mumbled as he picked a nice seat at the fancy table to settle into and buckle up.

“...Nah, I think the guy was more talking to himself. Just getting more weird vibes now. Think Snow White’s part of some eastern mafia? Like a triad or something? That sounds kinda cool, though.” Nico shrugged and took the seat beside him. 

“That… you know what, Nico? I don’t want to think about that. We’ll figure things out as we go, but I’m not about to overthink things without all the facts here.”

“Well, we learned two things here. Princess of ours got a family that isn’t to be trifled with, from the sounds of it. Guess her last name is King, huh?”

Nero sighed. “Who they are won’t change the fact that she needs help.”

To that, Nico hummed and nodded. “Yeah. File it away for later. I’ll start up some new reports so we can revisit things later.”

“Sounds good.”

While they waited for takeoff procedures, Nico took a good look around them. Place was lined with leather and all that jazz... Surprisingly the bar counter and its cabinets were empty. Maybe on such a short notice, they didn’t have time to prepare everything. It was a little disappointing, but she supposed the situation was dire. 

Nico has gone past the point of needing to think before jumping into the fire with her partner. After the Qliphoth, what more could ward her off of danger? Besides that, you can’t become the best artisan of demon-killing weapons if you don’t work with the best of the best; and the best of the best gets into the most dangerous of dangers. 

Even though Nero hasn’t said it out loud, yet, Nico was willing to bet that there was at least something semi big tied to this. There are just too many juicy factors tied to this. A part-devil family is one dead ringer. A hellgate is another. And something tearing through Hell to take something from them? Something kidnapping their family members?

Too bad she hadn’t found anything related to demons when she searched up “Aegis.” Many a devil’s name can be found through some old occult research, and of course, if you’re as famous as Sparda or Mundus, information both true and false aren’t hard to come by. But “Aegis” only brings up stuff relating to protection, the original Greek meanings, and loads of human branding that uses the term. 

What was interesting to her, however, is that an Aegis was in some manner, a shield. 

And Sparda is a legendary devil swords master whose name was similar to a word in one human tongue that literally meant sword. 

Nico made a mental note to bring this up to Nero when he’s ready to do some mental work with her. For the time being, now that the jet has taken off, she brought out her laptop, plugged it into a power outlet, and started: “Imma start compiling some notes, now. You tell me when you’re ready to start helping.”

“Yeah, yeah.” 

Nico was about to jab at him in her usual uncouth name-calling when she looked over to find him taking out _that book_. Except he was staring at something in the back cover.

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to, you know, read the pages of the book? Or do you not know how to read a book?” Nico snickered and looked over to see what he was staring at. Nero had been rolling his eyes at her when she then saw the envelope, and she snatched it. “Hey, what’s that you got there?”

“Nico!”

“Ah, ah! You’ve been spacing out on me here, and it can’t just be about all this weird stuff with Snow White. You’d be talking to me a lot more about the job if it’s just that. What got you all introspective lately? Seen you staring into V’s book a lot recently. Is it this?” She waved the envelope around. “What, daddy left you a heartfelt letter?” She teased at first, but then scrutinized the envelope, and said: “Seems unlikely, but if he did, I can hardly imagine what the jackass has to say.” 

They both had their daddy issues. Nico got over hers. But she can understand that Nero’s family issues are a far cry different from her own. For one thing, he still has no closure. 

She got hers probably before she even learned her asshole of a biological father was dead. Rock was good to her. What she grew up with made up for Agnus’ transgressions, and him meeting his end at Dante’s hands was poetic justice to her. 

So she handed the envelope back to Nero. There were some subjects not worth crossing the line about. 

But instead, he sighed, closed the book, and told her: “See for yourself.”

“Well, don’t mind if I do, then!” Hey, he offered!

Now, Nico might not look it, but she knows her way around literature. In fact, it only took her one glance into V’s book for her to recognize it as a William Blake collection. (If she hadn’t recognized it, then she ought to be ashamed. “Eternity” wasn’t tattooed into her skin on whim. She at least knew of some of the man’s other iconic works.) 

On that note, she could tell that the handwritten papers were someone’s work on poetry and verse. She won’t bother to judge its quality, being an engineer and not some snobby literature professor, though her initial conclusion was that V wrote these during the month he was traipsing about Redgrave. But after skimming through the pages, and noting the initials in the corner, she said: “S.V.? The hell does the ‘S’ stand for? No, wait wait wait...” 

She re-read some of the pages, flipped through all of them, and found the only one that had the post script. She whistled. “This is all some sentimental stuff. The paper’s kinda old, too. Well-preserved, but definitely old paper and ink.” She then grinned at her friend as she re-read the post script. “Well, looks like you got a momma out there somewhere!”

Nero’s sputtering would only have been made perfect if it included a spit-take. But since he had no drink in hand, he gave Nico one of his impressive glares: “What? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, who knows? You grew an arm back. We don’t know everything about demons an’ stuff. You might’ve been like a starfish-”

“Okay, stop. Stop right there. I’m not… what the fuck, Nico. Why would that even cross your mind?”

“I don’t know, why hasn’t it crossed yours?”

“Why would any sane human being think that?”

At that point, Nico sputtered out her laughter, and eventually, Nero chuckled with her. 

“You know I’m just messing with ya, right?”

“Yeah. You’re an ass, Nico.” 

When the laughter tapered off, Nico waved the paper in her hand around and asked: “So… you wanna talk about it?”

“What really is there to talk about?” Nero waved a hand in the air in response. “Just old questions popping back up again. You know. ‘Was my mom really a prostitute?’ and ‘Why did mom abandon me?’ Though seeing how Vergil is, maybe she…”

Nico smacked him upside the head.

“Ow! What was that for?” Of course, it’s not like Nico could’ve really hurt him, but it’s human nature to say ‘ow’ even when they’re not hurt, isn’t it?

“For being a dumbass, dumbass. Look here now, I’m no romance expert, but these here? Some of these are kind of sappy. And this one right here? I don’t know, Nero… People don’t just say ‘if there’s a next time’ without hoping for a next time. But hey, what would I know? Maybe V-man was just really good in bed- Whoa!” She cackled as Nero half-heartedly tried to swat her on the head with the book of poems. 

“Hey, Nero, I’ll be serious for a moment here…”

“Yeah? Got something to say that doesn’t involve making me consider awkward things?”

“I don’t think anyone would give a collection of hand-written poetry to someone they’ve only met for one night, much less over a one-night stand. Now I can’t tell you if there was actually a romance here, but there was totally some sort of connection. So if S.V. is your mom… I’d hold hope that she was at least a good person, if not a little bit psycho, letting someone like Vergil into her house.”

For a little while, all they could hear was the loud roaring of the jet engines. 

“Well. No sense overthinking it now. I’ll just demand answers from Vergil when Dante drags his ass back.” 

“That’s the spirit.” Nico gathered all the papers back into the envelope and smacked Nero on the shoulder with it to give it back. “So, ready to get your ass in gear for what’s up next?”

“What is there to do but wait, right now? We don’t know anything more than what Snow gave us. I might as well kick back and take a nap. Might get thrown in the fire the moment we land.” He stuck the envelope back into the book and proceeded to slide his seat back. 

“Or before.” Nico snorted. 

“Come on, don’t jinx it.” Nero sighed and propped his feet onto the table, clearly deciding there’s no point in not letting loose a little in this fancy jet. 

“Hey, watch the laptop! And what, you afraid of a little plane crash? You got wings.”

“I can’t carry a whole RV, wings or not. Enough joking around, Nico. Might be good to get some more rest while we can.” 

“Yeah yeah. Get your beauty sleep in, princess.”

She received one more eye roll from Nero before he leaned back and… what was with that habit of putting a book over his face? She didn’t get it. If it wasn’t a book, it was whatever magazine they had laying around, which was usually one of Nico’s gun mags. 

Well, wasn’t worth pondering over. Time to get some thoughts sorted out, and then… well, Nero wasn’t wrong. Rest before the curtains rise would be smart. 

* * *

At some point, like promised, Vergil had woken Dante (by not-so-kindly jabbing the toe of his boot into his brother’s side when the first few attempts proved futile, and hushing their short argument with “I didn’t skewer you this time, now, did I?”) to change shifts and places. 

He sat himself a few paces away from Sera, who had at some point shifted to roll onto her other side, and pulled Dante’s coat closer about her shoulders. 

Sleep wasn’t something Vergil needed in abundance. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Dante, but sleep also wasn’t going to come easy to him. He can’t safely say when was the last time he had slept peacefully, either, even when he was V. (Urizen, or course, did not sleep, and wasn’t even a factor to this equation.) Even with the physical manifestations of his nightmares slayed, the metaphorical scars still remain.

It wasn’t that he was afraid to fall asleep… (so he will say. And he would refuse to admit otherwise.)

But a meditative state will suffice… and though there was no time to keep track of, it felt like… he lost track of time anyway…

Because he came to a change in the scents around him. 

Scent was important. The ability to pick up subtle changes and identify scents was, undoubtedly, a skill that had helped him survive. It was honed through experience, and he could recognize the scent of fear and distress with ease. 

It was coming from Sera, who wasn’t outwardly showing much distress, though she was beginning to sweat. Before this moment, there was only the smokey stagnant scent of Hell which he had gotten accustomed to. The adrenaline had worn off a long while ago, beneath the unfortunate scent of them all needing a shower.

When Sera curled up around herself tighter, the shuffling caught Dante’s attention. The younger brother turned, glanced at her, but then settled his gaze on Vergil. 

So Vergil narrowed his eyes back at Dante. _What?_

Dante tilted his head over at Sera, and looked back at Vergil. _Well?_

Not wanting to be having this exchange, Vergil almost scowled. He stopped himself, but the subtle motion of the curve in his lips apparently didn’t go unnoticed. 

So Dante rolled his eyes, and mocked a silent sigh as he got up to walk towards Sera. Vergil moved from his sitting position to a half-kneel, ready to get up while deciding on the spot if he should let Dante just do whatever he wanted in this situation…

“Hey, Angel, you okay?” Dante asked while kneeling down to reach towards her shoulder, but Sera stirred and began to sit up, so he took his hand back. Sera wasn’t spooked, but she was a little tense. Vergil noticed the platings from her left-hand weapon shift into claw-form, but no more than that for a reaction. She was instead focused on something else… pain, from the looks of it.

“I’m not dead, so that’s a blessing…” She mumbled in response, and then hissed in pain. “Sorry, it’s this scar on my torso…” She gathered Dante’s coat under her right arm and moved into a sitting position, the claws receding. “It hurts from time to time. Can’t really say why. Roy said it looked completely healed, just scarred. Here.” She dusted the red coat off and handed it back to Dante.

As she picked up Vergil’s folded coat from off the ground, the owner of said coat moved to kneel down behind her, slightly to the side, and inspected her shoulder: “Your shoulder wound did not scar.” He stated simply. 

“I don’t think any of the wounds from my time since drinking demon blood have scarred, so whatever this gash in my stomach is, was probably from before I came here.” She responded as she also dusted off the dark blue coat, and handed it back to him. “Thank you both, by the way… you didn’t have to lend me your coats. And thank you also for not ditching me, or… whatever other terrible thing that could come from teaming up with strangers. Though…” 

While everyone got off of the ground, Dante threw his coat back on with flourish. Vergil, meanwhile, simply hung his over his right arm, Yamato still in his left hand. Sera turned to him, hand leaving the gnarly scar that ran jagged down her abdomen. For a brief moment, he felt very uncomfortable seeing it. 

_He_ knew that wasn’t there the last time he saw her, and he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened, and what she did to survive it at all…

The thoughts were interrupted by her question: “Did you ever find what you were looking for, V?”

He should have anticipated this question. But not so soon… he expected her to be angry in some way. Expected her to… do what he would assume any jilted lover would and scream at him about leaving, perhaps? No, that didn’t seem like something she would do… and it wasn’t that he had parted with her abruptly. But then again, was one month really long enough for him to say that he knew her? 

He didn’t really know her at all, did he? He knew her as generous, as a woman slighted by her community but still held her head high, led forward by very very few friends who saw past her history that she did not choose.

He knew her as a lioness who didn’t want to be taken for a lamb. 

And he knew that if he told her he didn’t want to answer the question, she would back off. 

His long period of silence would have been met with patience on Sera’s end, but Dante…

“Well, you gonna answer that? Kind of a question of the century, there.” 

Truly, there was a lot of weight to the question, and in his own way, Dante had asked Vergil the same… less asked, more like he had made pointed statements about it, without truly asking what Vergil thought about his “journey.” Vergil had wanted to avoid having to talk about it for as long as possible, but…

“It’s not a simple question, Dante. And it doesn’t come with a simple answer. Would it kill you to have some patience?” He snapped back. 

He could feel the rising tension, and was prepared for what was probably another angry tirade from Dante:

“I don’t know, Verge. I’d say I’ve waited over 20 years and- Shit. Wait.” Mid-sentence, Dante suddenly bit back his steam and brought a hand to the bridge of his nose as he broke eye contact in frustration. “No. Not going there. I said I’d lay off if you didn’t want to speak about it, and we just had this fight earlier already. It’s fine. I don’t need to know anymore. Just…” He trailed off. For everything Dante’s willing to say at the end of the heat of the moment, he somehow didn’t want to say it now. But Vergil filled in the words for him: _don’t leave again_.

Sera’s gaze flicked back and forth between the two of them, as what would have been a heated argument simply didn’t happen. “It’s fine, actually. You don’t have to answer. It’s ultimately not my business…” Though when she said this, her gaze drifted over to Dante, and was scrutinizing him. 

Vergil knew that despite the agreement, it didn’t truly stop curiosity. Dante’s inability to keep his mouth shut mostly likely brought more questions to her mind. 

But there were other things to address, right at this moment. 

“No, I won’t keep this answer from you.” Vergil stated. There was definitely a flicker of interest in Dante’s expression. “I simply… need a moment to think. It’s not...” He trailed off as he looked down at the Yamato in his hand. He fought the urge to fiddle with the sageo, and instead mentally tugged at a small bank of memories that, even now, required some sorting to get through. 

His memories as V were stronger, on the one single basis that it was full of different emotions, as opposed to Urizen’s singular want of power that could hardly be called an emotion. It was hard to describe, however, what it felt like to be split and then whole again. Was he truly whole? That was a question for another time. He cannot deny, however, that what he felt as either entity were real, and true. 

And as V, he had made a choice… that he would see things through. It was a very human conviction, one that, through some odd manner of poetic justice, overpowered the indignant demonic tendency to only want without consideration. 

“An honest answer would be hard to give. I suppose, in the context of what little I allowed myself to tell you, the answer would be, no. Not in the way I thought it should have gone…” He glanced at Dante, weighing his words, asking himself if he wanted to say anything more. Was it worth bearing his thoughts out in the open?

But in a manner of speaking, he had done so in front of Trish. He had also done so in front of Nero. 

He fell to silence again. Not only was he unsure of being so candid in front of them, but there was also the matter of… where to even start?

Sera’s gaze once again dashed between the twins, and she interrupted before Vergil could make a decision on how to proceed: “I’m already beginning to see that something complicated is going on here. This probably isn’t the time and place to dig things up… for what it’s worth, I’m sorry you didn’t find what you were looking for…”

Vergil lowered his gaze briefly from hers, and answered softly: “For what it’s worth, I found shreds of what I was looking for, in the remnants of things that I had lost.”

And she nodded, in solemn understanding. “That sounds… tragic. I’m sorry, V. But right now, I guess there’s naught to do but to move on… first thing is to get out of here.” She sighed and shuffled from one foot to another, changing her stance from openly neutral to something that suited the sympathetic air more.

And then Dante decided to meddle: “Hey. Need to pick your brain a bit, Angel.”

Sera gave him a curious glance. “I do have a name, which I gave you.”

Dante simply smiled and put up a placating gesture: “But it’s so fitting! Seraphina is in reference to the seraphim, right? That’s an angel, so… wait, not the point. Look, just wanted to ask how much you remember of yourself. Feel like there’s still anything missing? I’m asking because, well, we’re in Hell. You didn’t end up here by just tripping into it. And as of current, we know nothing about you.” He then glanced at Vergil. “Well, I know next to nothing about you.”

Sera flat out huffed, and settled a hand on her hip as she responded: “I think V knows more about me than I know about him. By that measure, I also know nothing about _you_. Where do any of us even start with this?” 

Vergil did find a shred of amusement in how she was throwing an accusatory tone at Dante, when she could have turned accusation at Vergil for having said nothing of his past or family.

“Okay.” Dante grinned and settled his hands at his hips, carefree as usual. “That’s easy. I’ll start. You probably figured this out already, but like Verge there, I’m half-devil. I run a little demon hunting business. Legendary Devil Hunter, at your service.” He mocked a bow, and then waved a hand towards Vergil. _Your turn._ Vergil read in that motion. 

To say he was reluctant was an understatement. He rarely spoke of himself, and when he did, it always made him feel vulnerable. But he had to remind himself now: he had to make a better effort. Dante’s confession of wanting the entire family together was a destination without a roadmap, but the confession was so raw that Vergil felt like his own heart had been sliced open by the Yamato. 

Once again, these were not emotions he needed anyone else to be privy to. And he’s still trying to process them himself.

But he ought to offer a little bit more than what he used to: “There is no apt description other than ‘wanderer.’ I’m afraid I have no fancy titles to procure, save for one that brings more trouble than it’s worth now. That is…” He looked down at the Yamato and thumbed over where the sageo was tied, resisting the urge again to fiddle with it in front of others. “Unless I go through the bother of claiming the title as King of Hell, now that I am a contender for it. But I’m wholly uninterested in the title itself.” 

Glancing over at Dante, he could see his brother’s brief surprise that he would even mention such a thing, in front of someone else, no less. 

Sera gave a curious hum. “...That sounds impressive, even if I’m getting the feeling that there’s something complicated going on here. Well, I guess it’s my turn.” She took a deep breath. “I can assuredly tell you that I was a Holy Knight and Officer of Fortuna. Though I’m not sure if that would mean anything to you.” She indicated to Dante.

“Yeah... about that. Might have wrecked your city a few years back.” Dante grinned sheepishly, and immediately followed it up with: “But it wasn’t my fault! There was, uh…” Vergil could see Dante suddenly backtracking. His brother didn’t know exactly what Sera’s personal opinions on the Order were, and realized that certain revelations might not be a good idea at the current. 

But Vergil knew, so he prompted the continuation of the conversation: “I had noticed the city was worse off than I had last seen it when… I went to collect someone for your last job.” 

Dante briefly shot him a scrutinizing look, for Vergil was sure his brother had a lot to say regarding who “I” and “someone” were. 

And meanwhile, something akin to realization and dejection flashed across Sera’s features. And Vergil felt an unfamiliar pang of unease. 

Yet somehow, by whatever good graces he didn’t expect (and fought to accept) from Dante, his little brother saves the situation: “Things got really crazy. More than just complicated crazy. City’s been busted for about five years now, and, uh… well, shit. We’ve all been a little neck deep in family problems, haven’t we?” He feigned a docile nonchalance. Vergil almost wanted to bristle just to be contrary; “family problems” was barely apt in describing the mess that was their lives, and there was the issue that there were still literal family problems that needed to be addressed. 

Finally, Sera could only sigh and bring a hand to her head, as if she’s gotten a headache. “This… I still have so many questions, but damn if any of them should be answered while we’re in this Saviour-forsaken place.”

Dante laughed. “Saviour-forsaken indeed.” He sounded very amused. Vergil couldn’t help but be amused with him. 

“Well, we should probably keep working on finding our way out of here. So I guess it’s time to just take the conversation to the road.” Sera pointed at a direction that would have been vague if they didn’t know the shield at her back was pulling them towards somewhere. 

“Wait. You should…” Vergil held out his left arm to her. “Dante and I do not require food in the same sense as humans do, but if demon blood has been the only thing sustaining you, it’s safer for you to take regularly from a single source.” This was the reason he hadn’t put his coat back on. 

He couldn’t read her expression as she fell into thoughtful silence. The silence gave him time to ask himself why he decided to do this in the first place… why offer her more of his blood? (It can’t be guilt. It shouldn’t be that… But the heavy feeling in his chest brought forth memories of when unfamiliar emotions simmered when he was in Fortuna all those years ago, and of when it bubbled over to almost drown him when he was split into V. He didn’t like it… but he must admit that cutting them away did not work out well the last time.)

Sera came up to him, and inspected his arm, running a finger down the inside of it. “...Come to think of it, I guess I wasn’t imagining it…”

Vergil tilted his head in silent questioning. She curiously tilted her own head towards her right, exposing something on her neck that she reached up to lightly touch. 

_Oh._

Two pin prick marks. He didn’t think he had… No, she was human. The scarring shouldn’t have been surprising. 

“Yours healed almost instantly, didn’t it?” She whispered. But to the side, Dante made a noise that sounded like a held back laugh. Vergil once again sent a glare in his brother’s direction, though Dante had turned away and wasn’t able to see it. Still, he had no doubt Dante knew he was being glared at. 

“Dante.” Sera spoke evenly and louder than the previous whisper. “Does your devil blood also allow you heightened hearing?”

“I decline to answer that, Angel!” That was anything but a ‘no.’

“Then at least do a better job pretending you’re not hearing what isn’t your business.”

Vergil couldn’t help it. A very light but pleased rumble sounded from him, and this appeared to please Sera. She lightly smiled, and bared her fangs. It was certainly a new look for her, but he thought she wore it well. 

So while she sank her fangs into his arm, neither of them noticed Dante’s slightly gobsmacked reaction to how Sera responded, before his expression settled into a hopeful smile. 

* * *

“Hey, sleepyhead! Up and at ‘em! Come on now!!” 

Nero groaned to the sound of Nico’s pestering. He wasn’t actually fully asleep anymore; was half awake since feeling the jet turn and descend. Had felt the landing and eventually heard the engines cut, too. 

Taking the book from his face, he stretched out. “What, are there demons teeming outside already?” 

“Nah. Just that we’re here already. I watched through the window. It’s just kinda a fresh scene, you know? Also, nothing looks messed up, so whatever happened with Snow White’s family, it doesn’t look like it’s catastrophic. So there’s that. Oh, and I have no service here. No duh. Thought I’d remind you that we’re gonna have to rely on the satellite phone in the RV.”

Inwardly, Nero suddenly remembered that he forgot to give Snow the contact for the RV’s phone. Damn. Better remember to do that later. 

The pilot came into the cabin with a slip of paper in his hand. “The Young Lady’s instructions.”

The following moments were uneventful. It was apparently almost 7 pm local time, so it was already pretty dark. Neither Nero nor Nico were overly surprised at all the fancy secrecy, since context clues gave away a lot of the surprise already. They buckled themselves into the RV, was reminded by the pilot that people drive on the left side of the road, and was pointed towards a row of large garages. 

The paper instructions had a garage number and a passcode, which Nero got out of the RV to punch into the keypad. He returned to the passenger seat as the door opened, made some obligatory noise over Nico’s smoking, and buckled up. Nico drove them through when the door was barely open enough for the full RV, and Nero counted his blessings that nothing caught when he suddenly felt an odd wave of nausea. 

It was brief, and actually not very strong. But Nico caught the way he paused and turned back to squint at the automatically closing garage doors. 

“What’s up? You getting airsick after landing?”

“Ha, ha, Nico. No. We just passed through some wards, I think. I mean, stuff like this doesn’t always work, and I guess if her family are mostly part-devils, then they can’t fully ward the place.” He shrugged. “File that away for later, I guess.”

“Right-o.” 

So went the long journey down a lit tunnel. The decline down took a while, and Nero was fairly certain they were now taking a tunnel under the waters. The kilometer markers passed them by, and it didn’t take long before they got really bored of the silent stretch. 

“This is definitely taking us to some private island.” Said Nico. 

“I’m surprised the jet didn’t land us right at her place. But I guess that was just hired help, just like us, huh?” 

Nico just took a drag of her cigarette as the RV sped forward.

“Ever thought about how someone is a part-devil?” She then asked out of the blue. 

“That question comes with a lot of inappropriate answers. Try again without being vague.” Nero rolled his eyes. 

“You know how way earlier I was joking about some deal with the devil thing? She said she’s related to some devil named Aegis, but that ‘related’ could mean anything. And we all know the age-old stuff. People make a deal for power, money, all that jazz. Becoming a demon often goes hands in hand with that, doesn’t it? Think maybe this is just… something coming to collect?”

“So what if it is?” He asked softly. 

She exhaled a stream of smoke, and then nodded. “You’re right. And hey, maybe they’re like you. You know. Had a parent or ancestor who had exceptionally exotic tastes.” She cracked a grin. “Or both of those things above. But hey, whatever. If something needs an ass-kicking, that’s what we do, right?”

“Yeah. The question now is who’s ass we’re kicking. You couldn’t find anything on Aegis, could you?”

“Nope.” She popped the ‘p’ and inhaled more of her rancid cigarette, before exhaling and continuing: “The only thing we have to go off of is the name. Some devils have very telltale names. Sparda, for example. Legendary Demon Swordsman whose name literally means sword. Aegis would refer to some sort of protector or shield.”

“I won’t take that alone as a good sign. What a devil wants to protect doesn’t mean it’s beneficial to the human. But if it protects something important, then whatever is snatching the related people might be after that.” He made a ‘tsk’ in between his thoughts. “Damn. Not a happy thought in any of these theories.”

“Chin up. You’re about to be her knight in shining armor. You’ve made more than one happily ever afters happen now.”

“Ha!” He had to laugh at that. “I don’t know if two ruined cities and two family members being trapped in Hell counts as happy endings, Nico.”

“Who said it’s the happy ending of a Disney fairytale? Come on, I know you’re at least happy about your family. Think they’ll be back for the holidays?” She teased. 

“If they aren’t, I’ll add it to the list of reasons to greet them with my fist.” He smirked, and glanced out the window. “Man, this long ass tunnel is taking forever.” He almost thought he saw the same km marker twice- No, wait, that one was definitely higher than the previous one. Phew. 

“Let’s just hit the gas and get on over there, then.” Nico grinned and didn’t wait for Nero’s agreement. With a harsh acceleration, they sped through the last stretch. 

When they hit the upward slope, signaling the end of the tunnel, Nero said: “Fucking Finally. Hey, slow down a bit, will you?”

The door to the other end was apparently already open, and Nico had begrudgingly slowed down as to prevent them from simply rocketing out of the structure. Nero felt them pass through another set of wards. The nausea wasn’t as bad this time. It probably hit him hard the first time because he wasn’t expecting it. 

The road ahead led them towards a set of large iron gates flanked by two large purple-flowering trees, with one gate already open. The closed half had an eastern dragon on the front. When they passed the open gate left gate, Nero noticed a phoenix design. 

Within the gates, the right side of the front gardens were curiously oriental in design, while the left side were a familiar western design that reminded Nero of some of Fortuna’s parks. 

There were a few spots of damage to parts of the structures in the gardens, along with a few busted lamps that didn’t elude his notice. As they came up to the roundabout that preceded the front doors, Nero found it odd that the front of the house doesn't seem to be damaged at all. As if something only happened in the front gardens…

Nico parked to the side in the roundabout, snuffed out her cigarette in the ashtray and whistled. “This would be impressive if we were invited for a vacation, instead of work.”

“What would we even do with a vacation? If I got a vacation, I’d rather be at home with Kyrie and the kids. Come on.” Nero moved to climb out of the RV.

The architecture was mostly oriental in style, but brick and other western features were also involved. Sadly, this wasn’t the time to admire the sights. He did notice more of those purple-flowered trees flanking the front of the building’s entrance. 

There were certainly other flowering plants about the garden areas, but the purple flowering trees were the most eye-catching. Nero thought they were definitely a nice touch as they walked past them, up to the double-doors, and he rang the doorbell. 

Since losing his arm, Nero thought he wasn’t going to be able to sense the proximity of demons anymore. But in the scant few months of having gained his full Devil Trigger, he realized that, when triggered, he was able to sense them still. More than that, his senses felt sharper, too. And when in his relaxed state, he’s slowly learning to use his senses without triggering. It wasn’t perfect yet, and he was probably still a long shot from perfecting it. But he could feel his senses almost perk at the presence that approached from the other side of the door. 

And then a voice answered through an intercom: “Oh. The camera is still broken. _Great_. Nero and Nicoletta?” Snow’s voice drifted through. 

“That’s us!” Nico answered cheerfully before Nero could. “Nice place you got here, Princess.” 

“Nico!” He started, but there wasn’t really a point to getting annoyed. “Well. Here we are.”

“Nero… did you get followed by a demon?” Snow asked instead of opening the door.

“What?” Nero tensed, and tried his best to expand his senses, hand flying to Red Queen’s handle as he looked around. He wasn’t detecting anything beyond Snow. Was he missing something? Or worse yet, was the presence behind the door somehow not Snow? “I… I’m not finding any demon around here. Why? Is something wrong?” He asked. 

“There’s a presence. Close by. Right beyond the door.” 

He could hear her voice tense, and it drove him to a slight panic. If something was hidden around here that he couldn’t sense, that would be a big problem. But then Nico elbowed him in the ribs, hard: “It’s you, dumbass.” She hissed. 

“Oh.” Nero paused. “Oh…” 

“Is everything okay? Or is this going to be a confrontation? I’ve gone through enough bullshit in the past month and a half, and by the gods if you’re a trap--”

Hearing Snow’s tone change to be on edge and dangerous, Nero knew there was absolutely no point in hiding it anymore. “It’s me! Snow, it’s me. You’re sensing me.”

There was a pause. He expected her to ask him to explain, but then he noticed the light shining through the spyhole of the door going away. She was mostly likely looking through it. And they all waited. Agonizingly. 

Finally, he heard the lock turn, and the handle turn. The door came ajar, but Snow wasn’t visible. “Come in.” Her voice sounded shakey, from behind the open door. Was she hiding?

Nero stepped in sheepishly, and Nico followed. The door closed, finally revealing their client to them:

Hair _as white as snow_ was the first thought that came to Nero’s mind. 

Snow was a tall woman. She looked to be about his age (which he had already suspected) and stood barely two inches shorter than him, and he was 6’2”. He had expected to see someone with a darker complexion… it was safe to bet that she was Asian, though there was still a chance she was of European descent or even of mixed descent. But instead, she was pale, with white hair that gave Nero flashbacks to every single time he met someone new with the same hair colour as him. To make things more complicated, her eyes were a very familiar shade of blue. 

But her eye-shape was somewhat unfamiliar… it broke some of her western features. Her cheekbones were definitely different, but then again, it could be because of her softer feminine feature. 

Knowing that she was part-devil, however, meant he wasn’t surprised by there being a long tail that trailed behind her. The tail wasn’t very thick, and had the texture that simply reminded Nero of reptilian skin, with a few hard thorns here and there. The soft golden-yellow glows ran alongside the bottom of her tail, and the tip ended with a barb. It reminded him of a vine with thorns, if vines were a dull orange.

Nero then took a very quick sweep of her overall stature and means of dress. Her hair was long and pulled back into a low ponytail, and there was a short braid at the right side of her face, with some of her bangs framing that side. She had the stray hair and bangs on her left side clipped back by a white snowflake hairpin that could barely be seen against her hair. She wore a dark red and sleeveless silk shirt with those pretty oriental buttons… and then light grey bootcut pants. Were those chains at both sides of her hips? He supposed he wasn’t an expert at what’s supposed to pair with what was obviously a traditional top. One thing he was sure of: she’s built like Trish, and definitely could hold her own in a fight.

At the moment, she was also giving Nero a very concerned lookover. Damn, he had several other questions now. And his senses were tingling like crazy. 

Cue Nico to the rescue: “Hey, you must be Snow! Nice to meet you!” She extended a hand towards her. It seemed to break the panic spell Snow was lost in, and she turned to look at Nico.

“Yes! You are Nicoletta?” She seemed uncertain about shaking Nico’s hand. 

“The one and only Nicoletta Goldstein, Artisan of Arms Extraordinaire!” She pushed her hand forward a little more, waiting for that handshake. 

“You… are not just a mechanic.” Snow observed, and glanced down at the offered hand. Some of her tension was finally melting away, and she took Nico’s hand with a confident handshake. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” When she let go, she turned back to Nero: “And it’s a pleasure to meet you in person, Nero.”

The hand she offered was her right, which meant Nero was awkwardly forced to respond with his right hand that currently had Overture equipped. “Yeah, uh. Nice to meet you, Snow. Name’s kinda on the nose, huh?” He then mentally kicked himself. While it wasn’t a rude comment per se, having grown up with issues surrounding his own complexion, she might not have appreciated that. 

Snow blinked slowly at him, and then a wry smile grew on her lips. 

“And what of you? Were you named for the emperor, or the colour black?” She teased, not letting go from the handshake. 

He knew he didn’t have to give an answer, but he did, anyway, with a bit of a scowl: “The orphanage said I was wrapped in a black blanket when I was left on their doorstep, but I’d rather think I wasn’t named after a colour. No one’s going to look at someone as pale as me and think my name means black, anyway.” He also wanted to be out of this awkward handshake.

Something flashed in Snow’s eyes when he mentioned the orphanage. A slight pang of guilt. But she didn’t comment on that. Instead, she stated: “It snowed when I was born. This place almost never snows. My name isn’t actually _Snow_. It’s _QianXue_. It means Thousand Snow. But having an English name can be convenient.” She laughed, and then lifted his arm a bit to inspect it: “Now, I must ask… this is one of your mechanic’s creations? It’s…” She turned Nero’s Devil Breaker over to inspect the palm and joints, expression lighting up into a relaxed wonder. “It’s amazing!”

Nico beamed: “Yeah, it’s a real work of art, isn’t it? We’ve got more where that came from, too.”

Glancing over at Nico, Snow grinned and responded: “You truly are an artisan of arms, then?”

Nero resisted the urge to groan as Nico bellowed out a laugh: “Hah! You betcha! Good one!”

“I do my best to please.” Snow giggled, though there was something a little forlorn in her expression now. Letting go of Nero’s hand, she looked back at him: “I am sorry that you lost your arm, though.”

“Oh, no, that, uh… You know what? Check this out.” Gripping the base of Overture and pressing into the release plates, he pulled the Devil Breaker off, and revealed his human arm after a brief flash of blue. 

“Oh!” She was clearly surprised, and somewhat impressed. 

“Yeah, some stuff happened. Wasn’t fun but hey I’m still in one piece.” Nero barely explained as he re-equipped Overture. 

Something a bit more serious settled into Snow’s expression: “I will make sure that you both continue to be in one piece, come what may.”

That didn’t settle well in Nero’s stomach. She almost sounded… _sacrificial_. 

Guess it’s time to get down to business. 

“Hey, none of that. You’re paying us to help your family, so don’t go laying down promises like that to us. Why don’t we get acquainted with what we have cut out for us?”

She nodded, agreeing that they needed to stop lingering at the door. “I believe you’d appreciate discussing that over something to eat, then. It was a relatively long flight. I’m afraid I couldn’t prepare anything appropriate for conducting business over…”

“Snow, I can talk business over a cheap cheeseburger for all I care. Don’t worry about it. You’ve… kinda been through hell. I’m not expecting you to give us a five star treatment.” 

While he reassured her, Nico glanced around and asked her damnable question regarding her vice: “What’s the policy on smoking here?”

Clearly this wasn’t the first time Snow had to deal with smokers, with an answer at the ready: “My family would loathe the hint of smoke lingering. But it is allowed outside. We may eat on the patio to the central garden, as the main guest hall opens into it, so that you may smoke.”

Nero wished Nico were as considerate in his garage as she was being now, because she just hummed in agreement. 

But he noticed the way Snow answered. She held hope that her family would be back… though it appears she believed it okay to be at the cost of herself. 

As she led them further in, she informed them they may leave their shoes at the door. The main guest hall was predictably the first major room close to the entrance, and certainly had its fitting of both modern things and traditional furniture. The entire back wall was opened up right now, revealing the back patio that led to a lovely garden that was once again split into two distinct styles. The furniture of the room was mostly oriental, and yet on one side there was a full bar counter and distinctly western cabinets. 

Fancy? Yes. Mismatched? Also yes. But they weren’t here to criticize home decor. 

Nero once again noticed that nothing seemed damaged within the building. He supposed it’s a blessing that whatever events happened here didn’t leave her with shambles for a roof over her head. 

The food she had set out were sandwiches stacked on plates, placed neatly at the bar counter along with a pitcher of water and a silver tray of glasses. 

There were also five different bottles of what appeared to be whiskeys sitting on the bar counter, along with a glass of melting ice and hints of golden liquid at the bottom.

When Snow grabbed an ashtray from a drawer and picked up two of the sandwich plates, Nico grabbed the third. Nero got the water pitcher and drinking glasses. “Following you.” He indicated out at the patio. 

She thanked him, and they all simply settled on the edge of the patio looking out at the night time garden scene, with Snow at Nero’s left and Nico at his right. He set Red Queen down against the edge of the patio, between himself and Nico. There was too much else on their metaphorical plates to handle for them to admire the view, however. 

Nico’s gaze never left Snow the entire time she was lighting her cigarette, and then began: “Alright Princess. You wanna start at a beginning, or we search for one for you?”

“It depends on how much you think you need to know. But I am desperate, so I have little to hide. The only matter is that there is a lot of information, so some details may need to wait.” She responded solemnly. 

Nero considered how to start while he was already halfway through a sandwich. He could start with their theories, but decided that might be rude in light of Snow’s predicament. So instead he asked: “Tell us about Aegis.”

“As hunters, I’m sure you’ve attempted to search up information on him. A few physical texts might allude to him, but I’m afraid Aegis was a convenient moniker chosen to refer to him outside of the Eastern tongue. He’s referred to as the Ultimate Shield and the Ultimate Lance. There’s some… cultural jokes and meanings behind it, but that’s neither here nor there right now.” Snow starts off explaining. 

“Okay. So, what about Aegis and… your family?” Nero asked. 

Snow poured herself some water, and answered. “Well... Aegis is something akin to a patron. He’s both a distant and not-so-distant relative. Most of the family that would be allowed to live here have blood pacts with him.”

Nico flat out said her observation out loud: “So there’s some deal with the devil involved here.”

“Fundamentally, yes. But I assure you, it’s not the terms of the blood pact that have put us in this predicament. It’s...” Snow twisted her thin braid of hair between her fingers nervously. “They want the pieces of the key to the hellgate.”

There was the other big question looming over their heads: The Hellgate. Grabbing a second sandwich, Nero took a bite and waited for Snow to elaborate. But she was beginning to look uncertain about how to proceed…

“So… One of the pieces was the first thing that was taken, right?” He guessed. 

Snow nodded slowly. 

“Knowing how some of these gates work, I’m gonna assume that blood is another component?” Nico asked while waving her cigarette in the air. 

“Yes.”

“Hmmm…” Nico inhaled more of her cigarette, exhaled, and continued: “Alright. This raises some more questions. How much blood is needed to open this gate? Because it seems weird that they need more than one of your family members. And for that matter, where’s the ‘ol mighty patron of your family? The devil with a name that means protection sure aint livin’ up to his name.” 

To that, Snow huffed. “Yeah, well… That whole ‘something from Hell came out and took something important from my family’ thing? That was Aegis.”

Nero was glad he hadn’t taken another bite of his food yet, else he might have choked. “What? Something just came through hell and… kidnapped a devil?”

“Yep. With a thundering crack of the gate surface, leaving only the shattered chains that had bound Aegis to the gate. There was also blood everywhere. So much fucking blood...his blood. Days after that, the first of my cousins disappeared on a hunting job. And, well… here we are.” She explained as she leaned back, one arm behind her to keep her balance, the other still nursing the glass of water, contemplatively so.

To say “not good” was an understatement. Anyone else might have also asked what the point of a key and a locked door was if something like this could happen, but Nero and Nico knew better. Gates, seals, locks… they are all only regulators that help to discourage passage, and tend to weaken over time if not properly maintained. They are also not absolute barriers. The fabric between Hell and the mortal plane was more like a chain link fence, or a mesh. It has places where it will give, and places where it’s more porous. It’s why it’s more common for weaker demons, which are “smaller”, to slip through the sifting process. 

The barrier also wasn’t static. It’s constantly shifting, and the physical gates and seals are but anchors to pin a few parts of the “fabric” in place. Destroying a gate means that over time, the “weakness” in the barrier will shift elsewhere. Likewise, sealing an hole to Hell will never be permanent. 

At least, that’s what information they could piece together from a scant few pages of neglected research notes buried in Fortuna’s archives. 

Before either of them could say what’s on their minds, Snow continued: “This gate was locked down a long time ago. Something less than 2000 years, but nowadays we just say it’s been 2000 years. Aegis offered himself to be part of the anchor for the gate’s seal, and so Sparda had cut out a portion of Aegis’ power to fashion the physical totem of the key, while blood, of course, played their roles.” Snow glanced over at Nero nervously a few times. He had wanted to interrupt when he heard the name Sparda; there was something painfully ironic about everything right now. But looking at Snow, with her white hair and her blue eyes… Where does he even start?

And then Nico happened. Blessed is Nico; non judgemental, straight to the point Nico, asking the questions Nero was afraid to ask: “So they need the physical key, the blood of Aegis, and the blood of Sparda?” 

“Yes.”

“And you have the third component to that key?” 

“Quite possibly…”

“That ‘quite possibly’ why you tried calling for Dante?”

Snow became awkwardly silent for a moment as she looked down at the glass of water in her hand, before finally saying: “I think I’m too sober for the pending conversation we’re about to have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- This is not important, but while making a “calendar of events” I realized I did math wrong regarding the ages of Snow’s youngest cousins. Honestly, this change impacts nothing for your reading experience, so there is no need to go back and re-read the tiny edit I made for the last chapter.  
> \- I subscribe to an idea that a lot of V’s experiences for that one month are raw and on the forefront of Vergil’s mind. I’m using it as a means for Vergil to not start at ground zero for accepting that he has human emotions.  
> \- The last time it snowed in Hong Kong in real life was, well, MANY years ago. Like, “doesn’t line up in this timeline” ago. But hey, fantasy. It snowed. And it was a historical event, lol.  
> \- Once again, apologies, I speak mandarin not Cantonese, so I’m afraid any bits of Chinese I use will be in mandarin.  
> \- Yes those purple flowers are semi-important. Just not important enough to be addressed right now, but brownie points to anyone who can tell me what they might be. =P


	4. White Flame, Black Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were a lot of assumptions that popped up. But you know what they say... Nero didn't want to make an ass out of himself by guessing wrong. So, it was time to hear what Snow had to say. After all, if what he's seen so far has been any indication, he wasn't going to do what Dante did to him, and not say anything.
> 
> Speaking of Dante, he might be the kind of sap who gets teary-eyed at romance movies. Because he's really digging the whole idea of Sera and Vergil, the more he watches them interact. 
> 
> Oh, and apparently Sparda had a pen-pal.

你心魂皎焰 _  
__Your heart and soul’s bright flames_

对我灵气冷暗 _  
__Versus my spirit’s cool dimness_

点燃黑空虚妄 _  
__Ignites the black void of broken wishes_

指望烧成白瓷 _  
__In hopes of tempering it into white porcelain_

将我青情冰泪  
染为炽颜热血 _  
__Thus would dye my azure emotions and tears of ice  
_ _Into blazing/[crimson] colour and heated blood_

* * *

_“I think I’m too sober for the pending conversation we’re about to have.”_

Nico laughed. Nero could have found that statement amusing, but honestly he was feeling nervous. As Snow stood up to make her way back inside towards the bar, Nico and Nero looked at each other. Nico tilted her head towards the bar, and mouthed: _Well, go on._

He was nervous, but he didn’t take too long to debilitate over it. Whatever the truth is, she deserves this conversation. He had questions, and he had no doubt she had hers. 

_And unlike a certain uncle, Nero knew how to play his cards better._

So he grabbed Red Queen as to not leave her behind, and made his way over to then set his sword against the end of the bar counter. Glancing back at Nico, he saw her just wave lightly in a “all yours” kind of gesture as she went back to smoking. But perhaps it was better this way, just him and Snow at the counter.

Snow was already behind the bar counter, pouring whiskey into the glass that was already on the counter by tipping the bottle with her tail wrapped around it, not even bothering to get new ice. “Fancy some of this?” She offered as she raised her glass. 

“Thanks, but I’m good.” Nero sat down at the bar stool, and watched her simply… down the whole glass like a shot, the bottle of whiskey still open and in the grasp of her tail. He’s fairly certain that’s not how one should drink whiskey, but glancing over at the other bottles already there, he could tell this wasn’t about savoring the drink anymore. 

He remained silent as she poured herself another glass. He watched her scrutinize the drink in her hand, before she turned around momentarily towards the sink. The water ran for a brief moment, and then she turned back around with fresh and clear ice in her whiskey. 

Odd. 

She didn’t immediately drink from her new glass. Instead, she stared at it, and said: “I can’t do this. I don’t know where to start. Ask me something. Anything. I know you have questions.”

Pressing his lips to a thin line, Nero canted his head one way, and then another, as he half-shrugged: “Fair. So, uh. I’m guessing you’re wanted for your blood. Because you’re probably… related to Sparda.” 

“They say ‘blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.’ I live in a family where we truly bond over covenants.” She took a sip before continuing, while her tail finally set the whiskey bottle back down on the counter. “I didn’t really know for most of my childhood, of course. Didn’t really realize my complexion was anything special either. The rest of my family has hair colours that range from blonde to brown to black already. No big deal. Thought I probably got my complexion from my father.” She said so in such a nonchalant way as she lifted her glass to her lips again. 

Nero saw the opportunity to ask an important question, but couldn’t bring himself to. 

She sighed, and said: “My family isn’t exactly conventional. We’re mostly part-devils that have to keep more and more to ourselves as the world moves on to be more and more monitored. But most of the family comes from the maternal line. It’s a simple logic: females can continue the line without having to reveal to their mate what they are, because said mate doesn’t have to stick around. So, traditionally speaking, children come from mothers who have one-night-stands or few encounters with males they deem worthy. In recent generations, however, I’ve been told that the lack of true warriors out there makes for a short catalogue of eye-catching potential suitors. And on the rare occasion any men in the family can find a mate, it’s usually with women who are dangerous. Typically witches and the likes, or the occasional demoness. There’s been a few drops of outside blood mixed into this family…”

Snow began to sound more and more sheepish as she explained details about her family that were probably nobody else’s business. So Nero took a moment to tell her what he thought about it: “You know, that ‘unconventional’ you speak of isn’t really something bad. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for a sappy marriage and all that, but not everyone needs that kind of stuff. You do you, or whatever. I was dropped off at an orphanage, and as far as I know, my parents weren’t married, and I grew up hearing people say my mother was probably a prostitute. I guess the only thing they weren’t really wrong about was that I’m a product of Hell. Well, quarter-product of Hell.” There. Some cards on the table. Time to see how she plays her hand. 

She nodded in contemplation. “My mom, of course, never really answered me on who my father was. For a long while, the vague answers were acceptable to me, since we’re raised to understand that there is a divide between us and human society. And it’s a divide we must respect. As a result, I understood that my mother wouldn’t have been able to bring a human man into a demon’s nest. And then…” Another sip of whiskey. “Well, a lot of stuff happened. I had to start questioning the differences I exhibited. And then one day I killed a demon that referred to me as Sparda’s kin. And who doesn’t know of the Legendary Dark Knight?”

Who doesn’t, indeed…

“Mother would only remind me that it shouldn’t matter. But as I started pressing the family about it, Uncle Evan finally told me it’s only something my mother could tell me, and Uncle Roy and his damn honeyed words… he would kiss me on my forehead and tell me it’s okay, that he’ll look after me like he would my cousins. For a little while, I had also caught bits and pieces of my mother fighting with her brothers. I think she was trying to convince herself that the whole thing didn’t matter, and my uncles obviously disagreed.”

Well, that answered… very little, to be honest. But Nero could understand her frustration. “No one provided answers to you.”

“Nope.”

“It sucks even more when it’s your own family not providing answers to you.”

She took another drink of whiskey. 

“I’m no fool, though. There are some reports my family didn’t see a reason in keeping out of my reach. When I went looking for what information we had about Sparda, there was an event concerning the breaking of a major seal over the barrier between Hell and this world. The Temen-ni-gru.”

The tower where Sparda and the human priestess that was Lady’s ancestor created the seal. Of course…

“By the time Aegis heard about the event through the grapevine, a few months had passed by and the entire thing blew over already. But my mother went over to Europe to investigate anyway. That event was just a little over 22 years ago. And I’m fairly certain Devil May Cry is near that area. It might not have had a name back then, but in recent years? If you’re in the demon hunting business, then you’d be sure to hear of the Legendary Devil Hunter. So… I think I have a picture.”

Moment of silence. And finally, while Snow was finishing off the rest of her whiskey, Nero says: “Alright, pour me a glass.” He beckoned.

Without a pause, the moment she began to lower her glass, she moved to turn her back to him. Her tail grabbed a bottle, different from the one she had been pouring from, and she swiped a new glass from nearby with her left hand. She dumped whatever leftover ice and liquid was in her glass into the sink, and stacked it into her left hand glass to momentarily work off the top of the whiskey bottle with her right hand. 

Nero watched her, back still turned to him, glass visible to him in each hand, as she poured into one, and then swished both tail and bottle around to pour into the other glass until it emptied. She then lightly flipped the bottle in the air, and it landed perfectly upright on the counter without shattering, and then used her tail to flick on the water faucet over the sink. Something about her hands also shimmered as she turned back around to face Nero, and by the time she set his glass down in front of him, a perfect ball of ice dropped into the glass, and there was a light layer of frost on the outside of the glass. Another flick of her tail, and the water at the sink stopped running.

He rarely drank alcohol, but judging by the bottle, it was probably expensive stuff. “Water of life” where people often try to drown themselves in. He bitterly thought of someone he knew with his whiskey and beer, and half the glass went down just like that. 

“Okay.” He said simply. “Okay.” He reiterated, and noticed from the corner of his eye that Nico had snuffed out her cigarette, and was standing to make her way towards them. “How long have you suspected this?”

“I was about sixteen or seventeen.”

“Ever thought of trying to call him before all of this happened?” He asked gently, not needing to say who ‘he’ was. 

“Thought about it. Didn’t think it would go over well. What was I supposed to say? When you answered the phone and said he was away on family emergency, I thought it was probably for the best that I actually never reached him. Thought I should just give up. But then you offered to help, and I was so desperate already. I just didn’t think that you…” She trailed off, set down her glass of untouched whiskey, and loomed over the counter with her forearms on the surface, head cast down. 

“Didn’t think I was like you? Yeah, well, feelings kinda mutual. At least you were prepared to meet him knowing who he was. My first meeting with the bastard involved him dropping through a cathedral ceiling and shooting the Vicar, and then I drop-kicked him in the face. And _then_ he spent the next five years telling me _zip._ Didn’t know a thing until a few months ago.” 

He saw her shoulders shake a bit, and heard her chuckle. Looking up, she finally smiled a little, and said: “Well, I guess I still have some family left to weather through this with, right?”

“And I guess I have extended family to save. Man, it’s been a hell of a year for family reunions for me. This is a lot for me to process, too, but I’ll drink to family.” He lifted the glass in a mock toast, and drank more from it. 

Snow lightly chewed at her bottom lip, and finally asked a question of her own: “So, this doesn’t… bother you, does it? That I exist?”

He looked at her quizzically. What the hell does that mean? “Why would it bother me? I’m surprised, sure, but...”

“Well, it’s just…”

Nico had been standing off to the side for a little while now, and interrupted with a laugh. “Dude, Nero, my man. She thinks you’re her half-brother.”

Hearing that, Nero couldn’t fight his own laughter, either. Snow couldn’t help but pout: “Are you not? What conclusion am I not seeing, here?”

“Holy Hell, no. Hell no.” He both laughed and blanched at the thought, but he couldn’t blame her. “But if it makes you feel any better, I thought similar at some point. But you know what? As abhorrent as the idea sounds, at the same time… and don’t you dare tell him I said this!” He jabbed a finger towards Nico in emphasis, “I think you got the better end of the straw. My uncle can be an ass and a fool but he’s got heart. He might not know what to do when you meet him, but he’ll probably try in his own way to keep a connection going. I wouldn’t put that same expectation in my father, though. Vergil’s a Grade-A-Asshole. Also I only really knew him for maybe an hour, and all we did was get to know each other by our swords. So count yourself lucky, cousin. Dante won’t try to kill you on the first meeting.” Nero felt somewhat odd, having to use words he had issues associating Dante and Vergil with. But the way he saw it, Snow needed all the reassurance she could get right now, and maybe it was time he admitted to himself that he has blood family.

He knew there was a lot to unpack in that, and briefly wondered if that was too much. Snow looked dumbfounded for a moment, and then asked: “Vergil? Vergil and Dante… like the _Divine Comedy_?”

And suddenly Nero was just as dumbfounded with her. For one thing, _that_ was what she chose to focus on?

Nico had this shit-eating grin on her face upon seeing Nero’s expression: “What? You’ve only just now realized yer daddy and uncle are named after two poets that trapeze through Hell in a piece of fictional work?” She cackled. “Though they might as well be making one hell of a re-enactment right now. Still waiting on them to come back from Hell.”

“They are in Hell right now. The family emergency you speak of, is that they are in Hell.” Snow buried her face into her hands. “ _Fucking Hell_.”

“Welcome to the family. It’s always crazy up here.” Though the situation of Dante and Vergil being in Hell was actually a sour topic, Nero couldn’t help but make light of the situation for her. The Sons of Sparda can take care of themselves. 

She seemed to be feeling better, after three glasses of whiskey and getting so much off her chest. Straightening up again, she became thoughtful, hand at her chin. “Well, there’s a good chance we might be able to look into getting the rest of the family out of Hell when Roy comes back with the Aegis Shield.”

The Aegis Shield. Of course. Devils sure do like to name things after themselves. 

Snow was beginning to look more comfortable now, muttering as gears turned in her head: “There’s also the chance Uncle Roy might find them… he’s fairly reasonable, so perhaps… then I can take care of those nests that popped up over here. Best clue I’ve got right now…” She paced from behind the bar counter, and glanced over at the Red Queen. Something in her expression lit up. 

“Nero! Would you like to spar?”

* * *

At first, Sera led the way, with Vergil not too far behind, and Dante trailing in the back. The landscape was still pretty drab, though there appeared to be something up ahead. 

The momentary silence got old pretty fast. Sera had glanced back towards them a few times, and then slowed her steps a bit for Vergil to catch up. Dante watched his brother pause before coming in step with her, and Sera took a step forward with a light beckon, asking him to walk beside her. 

Dante lingered back just a little further away. Privacy and all that. 

But of course, he could still hear most of the conversation from where he’s at. 

“I’m a little saddened, you know.” She said in a whisper that could still be heard. 

Vergil didn’t respond with words, but he did glance at her. 

“Thinking about it now, you didn’t get to really introduce yourself to me. Your brother did that for you.”

“My twin does have a knack for claiming what’s mine as his, which can extend to my autonomy. But in my defense, you requested I tell you my name when I return to your hospitality. I do not believe I am back within your hospitality yet.”

While Sera chuckled delightfully, Dante first thought: _You’re still not over that??_ Before realizing that his brother was just being… deadpan. Though he had no doubt there won’t be a last time he and Vergil got in a squabble over _possessions_. It was brotherly nature.

Dante expected Sera to address the curiosity of his and Vergil’s sibling relationship, but instead she asked with a gentle smile: “Maybe I should continue calling you V until then?”

“You may call me V for as long as you wish.” Was the soft response, and Dante wished he could see his brother’s face, to see what kind of expression he was making. But Vergil looked on ahead, having not even turned to Sera when he responded. 

From the short exchange they had so far, Dante was honestly very surprised. He remembered Vergil as eloquent, (when he wasn’t being mean,) yes. But he rarely remembered his brother as… soft. 

But then, he remembered those nearly-forgotten impressions of their childhood, buried under the ashes, nearly burnt away from years of desperation, depression, and dances with death. Between all the fights, there were still the times that Vergil had been careful, caring, and kind. All words that felt like they were cracking, flaking, and fading… 

So feeble and distant were those memories, that he almost wondered if he made them up.

“I’m not sure if I can still give you my hospitality in the future, however. I sometimes wonder if I’m here because I have died, and that I’m just being stubborn and not fading into madness like the rest of this place.” Sera continued her conversation. 

There was a very subtle faltering in Vergil’s footsteps, but he continued to fall into pace with her. “The Underworld, contrary to the belief of some, does not function as an afterlife. You are very much alive. And you will be able to make your way home. Should that key upon your back prove to be useless, it does not nullify our chances of leaving. Dante and I have made our respective ways out of Hell before. And we can do it again.”

How reassuring. Dante found it funny… because if Vergil had said that to him, he would have laughed, and called bullshit. His brother can’t even remember how he crawled out of Hell, delirious and dying as he was. And Dante? It was just luck. He almost didn’t leave Hell when he found one of those “holes” between the barriers. (“ _Father’s home. Brother’s Grave. Where I remain, when there was little merit of living again.”_ )

“Hmm…” Sera hummed. “I have to ask. Is there anything you can tell me about how much time has passed? I’m a bit lost between both missing memories and the lack of ability to keep time in Hell.” 

Upon hearing this question, Vergil brought Yamato from his side to hold before himself. Though Dante couldn’t see what he was doing, he knew Vergil was fiddling with the sageo again. From what he could tell, his brother was pulling the cord of fabric between his thumb and index finger, momentarily silent before answering: “I believe it’s been a little over two decades since we’ve last met.”

Once again, Dante wished he could be privy to this interaction in more than just eavesdropping. He could only see Sera’s shoulders stiffen for a moment, not a word to be said for a long stretch. 

“There’s still something missing. I feel like I’ve lost more than just time. More than just memories. Something important.” Whispers, again. Whispers that Dante could still hear. 

“I can understand the sentiment of lost time.” Vergil was no longer really looking forward. He was instead gazing downward, still fiddling with Yamato’s sash. “It is even worse when you do not know that you have lost time.”

“Being lost in a fog without realizing you’re lost. Thinking you see everything clearly in front of you when you actually see nothing at all.” Said Sera. 

Dante stared intently at the space between the two, emotions seizing a little. The line was so apt, so fitting… but was she talking about herself? Or did she somehow know what Vergil had been through? Or maybe it was just poetic fate...

“Do you think what is lost can still be regained?” 

A question from Vergil. Interesting…

“In speaking of intangible things, no. But you can always rediscover, reforge, and even replace it with something new. New memories for the blank spaces. Living another day for every day that was lost. Connecting or reconnecting with people.”

And with those words, Vergil brought Yamato back to his side. “And so it shall be.” He responded, yet only gazing ahead. They were approaching something. 

Dante wondered if his brother even noticed the momentary turn of Sera’s head, as she smiled pleasantly at how their conversation ended. And then she picked up the pace to go ahead just a few paces.

They had arrived at the edge of a ravine. It wasn’t like any ravine you’d find in the natural world, with both tall pillars of rock and floating platforms. It was crossable for Vergil and Dante, but what of Sera?

“Well, well. Finally, an obstacle course.” Sera broke the calm atmosphere that she had maintained in conversation, speaking louder and glancing back to make sure Dante wasn’t far behind. She stretched, first entwining her hands and bringing her arms above her head. Then she slowly brought her arms down towards her sides, palms face up, shoulders pulled back. She was preparing like a dancer who was about to perform, not just stretching away restlessness. When she began to work on her leg muscles, she said to no one in particular: “It really didn’t feel like it was that long ago, when I was fifteen and causing a ruckus in the castle town. Climbed to every place that was forbidden. Took risks lunging from balcony to roof to ledge. Before long, I had caused enough trouble for the city and the knights that the Supreme General himself chased me down, reigned me in, and gave me the chance to reforge myself from the lost girl I was.” 

Finishing up with her stretches, she checked over her weapons, unravelling them from her arms, forming them into blades, and then letting them disjoint into long bladed whips that pooled at her sides. 

“I became a knight. A protector. A friend. A sister. A… and then an honorary aunt, I guess, even though I told him 16 was too young to be a godmother.”

Dante didn’t think he was getting any look into Sera’s past so soon. He could tell though, that something was missing in this conversation. There was no mention of her parents, which spoke volumes to him. 

“Time always moves on. I know I can’t change what’s happened. But I feel so angry and upset right now. 20 something years is a long time.” She counted something on her fingers, doing some math. “My last memory of Credo was when he was 6. Kyrie was barely a few months old, I think. I try so hard to remember, but right now I can’t remember a time more recent than that. Did I disappear from their lives at around then? Have I failed my responsibility to Leo, and to Nova?”

 _Shit._ Dante froze, and glanced over at Vergil. The stoic glare spoke volumes: _Do not say anything._

So that’s why Vergil found the mention of Kyrie interesting. Dante could also barely remember Credo… truth be told he kinda forgot his name, only remembering him as Kyrie’s tragic older brother, and Nero’s mentor and brother-figure. 

So he tried his best to smooth over his expression and posture before Sera noticed his reaction. No one said anything, and perhaps Sera didn’t want it any other way: “I wonder if they’re okay. Leo would have retired by now. Did Credo pick up the sword like he said he wanted, in admiration of his father? What kind of girl has Kyrie become? Does Nova still make home-made tiramisu?” She took in a shaky breath. 

“I want to go home. I want to know if they weathered the years and disasters okay. I also want to know what happened to my home. To Fortuna. What in Hell’s name could happen that someone would tell me that he ‘wrecked my city’?” She glanced back at Dante with amused judgement, and he inwardly cursed himself: This was his fate. The ladies around him will forever be judging what he does. 

It’s not that he begrudges it. 

It’s just that… he’s already falling into the position of not wanting to make Sera mad. Are his hopes about her really that high already?

“But we will cross that bridge when we come to it. Now isn’t the time.” She turned back towards the ravine. 

And Vergil told her, out of left field: “Go on ahead. Permit me one moment to speak with my brother. We won’t be long.”

Glancing back, she gave him another easy smile in response: “Don’t make me wait too long.” 

The sight of her lashing her weapon out, using the claws of her weapon to find purchase, swinging from foothold to foothold… well, her mobility was definitely a defining trait. 

But this wasn’t the time for Dante to be watching her performance. “So, what did you want to talk about, Verge?”

“What do you plan to do when we return?”

Right. The “after” that needs to be considered. 

“Shop stuff. Eat pizza. Keeping an eye on you.” Barely half truth, with many omissions. 

“You realize she most likely has no physical home to return to, do you?”

“There’s room at the shop.” But he knew there was a glaring problem with that offer. 

“Dante, your shop is barely liveable for anyone that is not you.”

“We can make it work.”

“ _How._ ” Vergil bit back. 

Dante wanted to rise to the elevating tension with his own retort, but it seemed he was somewhat stuck in the past today. An old thought and memory surfaced, and he shuffled his stance, looked away for a moment to calm down, and re-met his brother’s gaze to ask: “Vergil. Have you ever asked yourself why I bought that shop, and set up that business?”

Vergil looked like he had an answer to give, but before it left his tongue, he suddenly stopped and re-thought about it, eyes narrowing, before giving a slow response: “I had presumed it was to go in opposition of my disregard for the welfare of humanity. But I believe I may have… overlooked something.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you overlooked something, big-time, bro. We found each other about a year before you unsealed that damn tower, and despite us coming to blows, I don’t think you understood how _happy_ I was to know that you were _alive_. I thought we could fight each other a hundred times over, but you were still my brother. My twin. My _family_.” 

Typically, by this point, Vergil might have said something like “get to the point, Dante” to him. But he didn’t. So Dante continued:

“So I thought, sure, we disagreed a lot. But we could disagree and still be together. I know you had never been impressed by my behaviour ever since we were kids. But I thought maybe you’d be impressed by the one stupid business venture I wanted to have with you. So I set out to figure that out, hoping it wouldn’t be long before we’d meet again. Was almost waiting for you to help name the place, too. I kept drawing blanks…”

Vergil remained blessedly silent. 

Dante scowled. 

“And then the damn tower happened. And then Mallet Island happened. And then I’ve lost count of all the bullshit I suffered. And _then…_ ”

“And then you found Nero.” 

Unreadable. Impassive. So _Vergil_. So frustrating to hold this conversation with.

“Yeah. And then I found Nero. And I didn’t know what in ever-loving fuck I could even offer the kid. For all I knew, you were dead, and I was half a man since. Kid didn’t need me mucking up his life more, but he was all I had left of _you_.” He jabbed his finger into Vergil’s chest for emphasis. 

“So the only thing I could do was give him what I had wanted to give you. A place in the business.”

Finally, Vergil lowered his eyes, half-closing them for a moment, before looking away towards the ravine that Sera was scaling through. “I demand that you clean your place up to liveable standards, then.”

“That was supposed to be the standard from the start, until my insufferable so-called better half fucked off into Hell. Come on, let’s not keep your angel waiting.” As far as Dante was concerned, he was never going to get an apology out of Vergil. Ever since they were kids, Vergil would rarely admit to wrongdoing, though between the two of them, it was always hard to tell who was really at fault. 

Dante was content with every small thing Vergil was willing to yield to; actions that probably spoke louder than words. He knew though, when they got back, many others would not be so content with that… But he can’t let that get in the way. Whatever happens, he wasn’t going to let go of this opportunity. 

“20 years late” was better than “never.” 

Right before he stepped off the ravine, he then called back towards Vergil; “Last one to catch up to her is a loser!”

He didn’t need to look back to see the obvious scowl that would be on Vergil’s face. He’s sure to be called childish for it, but Dante didn’t care. 

With an air hike, he proceeded to quickly go from platform to platform. On his fourth stop, he sensed the expected presence of his twin teleporting nearby. Dante called his Devil Sword to his hand, and parried Vergil’s swing of the Yamato. Now this was more like it!

Mid-way through their journey through the ravine (it wasn’t as large as they thought it was,) Sera was within view, actually standing at the top of one of the pillars. She watched the two of them go through their ritual, trading blows, parting, before lunging at each other again, going from platform to pillar to foothold, sometimes breaking what they once came in contact with. 

Soon, the three of them found a pause where they were each standing on their respective platforms, almost a perfect triangular formation. Sera’s weapons had been coiled about her arms again, but then she re-formed her left-hand weapon into a rapier held in parallel to her visage, swiped it out towards the left and then adjusted her stance into something battle-ready, with her right arm behind her back. 

She was looking at Vergil, but then turned to make eye contact with Dante. Dante glanced over at Vergil, who held out Yamato, clicked her out of the sheath with his thumb, and only spared Dante a brief glance. Sera canted her head with a smile that said: _Well?_

So the lady knight wants in on the fight, huh? Dante cracked a grin, and beckoned with his usual ‘come on!’ gesture. Immediately, Sera lunged with a speed a power that she undoubtedly gained from weathering through Hell. It wasn’t a hard attack to parry, but right after Sera backed off from the strike, Dante knew immediately he needed to turn and block Vergil’s attack with an impeccable guard stance, his arm briefly flashing into a devilish form, Yamato’s edge glancing off the hardened skin. 

With their added player, there wasn’t so much of a break when Vergil glanced to his left and suddenly held out Yamato’s black lacquered sheath to block Sera’s whip, but the bladed whip tangled itself about the sheath. Dante saw the bladed weapon pull taut, but in terms of strength, Vergil had her beat. Dante quickly looked up the whip to see Sera hanging on the edge of a pillar, one claw dug into the rock, with vexation flashing over her face when she realized she would lose a tug-of-war as Dante swiped his sword up from below the taut whip. 

Vergil involuntarily pulled when he saw what Dante was doing, and the force of both the tug and of the sword pulling the whip upward sent Sera launching up and towards them. Instead of letting the whip unravel, she allowed it to reel herself in, and unraveled it to form back into a sword when she was satisfied with her trajectory. The weapon of her right hand had formed into a claw, and she was most definitely trying to drop an attack on them. 

So Vergil and Dante immediately parted, but in different ways. Vergil teleported away towards a different platform. Meanwhile, Dante hadn’t actually been taking the fight too seriously, and only tried to jump away. Sera saw this as an opportunity and lashed out another whip. Being that it was a whip of segmented blades, Dante had no reservations with grabbing it by the connecting wire with his bare hand. (He’s done worse when it comes to hand injuries.) 

Seeing where Vergil was at, Dante had a mischievous idea. “Ready for a spin?” 

He pulled, and swung her around towards the nearby platform his brother was on, aiming to throw her into him. But he was quickly beginning to learn that Sera was a fighter who was in tune with aerial momentum. Though she couldn’t unravel her whip from Dante’s grip, she instead turned her predicament into an attack with her right-hand rapier, which Vergil side-stepped. 

At this point, Dante had to let go of the whip, because this wasn’t a fight to maim. He could have done much more and much worse, but that goes entirely against the spirit of fun and games. 

It was clear that her strength was in finding openings to attack, because when she went on a straight offensive, it didn't always work out. It’s a shame Vergil wasn’t really giving his all, and instead remaining mostly evasive. At something of this level, Vergil would hardly be doing anything that would give her an opening. Even Dante knew that you’d really have to press Vergil with enough heat before he had to sacrifice some of his guard for the offensive. 

Having given them their brief moment to cross blows, Dante went after Vergil, and the three of them continued their little free-for-all while crossing the ravine. Pretty soon, they were on even grounds again, and the fight soon became a situation mostly of the twins trading blows with each other, while Sera picked at openings between them both. 

Until Sera suddenly stiffened in the middle of an action, and turned completely around to look at something far off: “Something is coming. This shield at my back is humming like crazy-”

“Get down!” Dante pulled her back, and Vergil teleported before them just in time to pull out his sword and slash the attacking devil. The blade caught the devil’s outstretched hand, bit into their palm, and they withdrew only in time to prevent the Yamato from slicing all the way up their arm. They were clearly trying to go after the shield, and Dante grabbed Ebony to fire a few precise shots at their foe. 

The devil took the shots, but it also forced them to put a few paces of distance between them. Dark purple carapace all over, and black twisted stag-like horns. Most of their carapace was smooth and segmented at proper places to make for a nice armored look, and with the long and deadly scorpion stinger at their back, Dante suspected the armor was more like chitin. Their eyes actually had visible sclera and irises, but they didn’t look too good. The black sclera was probably normal, but the dull milky lavender irises without pupils might be due to something else. Long and pale blond hair was in a single lengthy braid, and what visible skin that could be seen was a pale lilac. Not uncommon demonic colourings. There were certain patterns and crystallizations in the armor that were a dull dark grey, as if all the colour had been drained from them…

And Dante recalled the shield at Sera’s back, crystalline and beautiful, along with the instruction Roy had left her before they had parted: _Don’t let that Devil have it._

“Vergil! That devil arm--” 

“I know! It must have originally belonged to this devil.”

“If he’s here, then…” Sera recovered from being pulled back and was ready for a fight as well. “I’m worried about what happened to Roy.”

“I would save that question for later. We may have to-” Vergil was cut off by the scorpion-tailed devil lunge. A grotesque black spear formed in his hands, which made for a weapon that wasn’t easy to parry with a katana. While Vergil sidestepped towards one side, Sera and Dante went towards the other side to stay out of the attack path. 

“I want to feel bad, if this guy is the original owner of the shield, but what tries to kill us, we kill back. That’s just how it works.” Dante huffed and grabbed Ivory. Spinning both guns, he took aim and shot a barrage of bullets at their opponent. This time, probably from knowing what to expect, the bullets were blocked by some manner of unseeable shield the devil generated, He closed the gap while Dante continued the bullet barrage, but was stopped from actually attacking Dante by Vergil, who stabbed the devil from behind and threw him to the ground. 

But in that moment, the devil had gotten close enough for Dante to notice something that was initially hard to see against the purple shades of skin and armor: purple pulsing veins. 

Dante’s heart nearly stopped as he remembered the last time he saw markings like those. When their enemy retaliated against Vergil, the elder twin took the proximity even worse. Dante saw Vergil’s eyes widen, and the flow of his katana stuttered. That was all it took for the devil to kick him down and harshly plant a foot into his chest. Sera sent out both of her whips but the scorpion tail parried them away. She didn’t dare approach when she needed to keep the shield out of his reach. 

Their opponent speared his weapon through Vergil’s shoulder, and leaned down to wrap his hand about Vergil’s neck. 

“Hey! If you want a better face to look at, I’m over here, bastard!” Dante shot Ebony at the enemy to get his attention away from Vergil, however briefly. He pulled at the pool of energy within him for his Devil Trigger, and then heard:

“...Sp…”

The devil hadn’t looked away from Vergil, but Dante could guess what he was going to say. With a burst of crackling red energy, he immediately ascended into Sin Devil Trigger, and launched himself forward. 

The distance didn’t feel like it was that big, but the journey felt slow. Slow enough that he thought he was watching in slow motion as the devil _took his hand away from Vergil’s throat_. But Dante didn’t stop his momentum, and barreled right into the scorpion-devil. 

All things considered, he didn’t think this devil was as big of a threat compared to a lot of the other terrible big-bads. Probably something more like the demons that were once imprisoned in the Temen-ni-gru. At the strength he was at now, it wouldn’t be too difficult to simply lay waste to the devil. But those markings… 

He opted to first check on Vergil, who was already collecting himself off the ground with Sera flanking his side. She had tossed the spear to the side, while he was trying to wipe away his panic and trauma by replacing it with indignant anger. When Dante held out a clawed hand, Vergil completely ignored it. But that was fine. What else did he expect?

And then they heard their opponent groan, a clawed hand covering his face as he gazed at them, one eye from behind splayed fingers. The irises were a clear and vibrant purple instead of milky lavender. 

“Spencer?”

 _What_. “What?” The word vibrated in the air, Dante’s voice still distorted by his Trigger. He released it, while Vergil demanded with his sword at the ready: “Who are you?”

The devil took a step back, his stare not leaving. “No. You’re…” The purple veins pulsed, and it was clearly causing a lot of distress as he crumpled to his knees. 

“Where’s Roy?” Sera demanded. Her concern wasn’t on the same level as what Vergil and Dante were worried about right now, yet her question was the only one that garnered an answer.

The devil first said something in a foreign tongue; not something demonic, as that was some sort of weird innate language that Dante would have understood. And then he answered: “The heart of the Hive. She has him at the heart of the hive.” He stood, shakily, as if fighting something. “You have to stay away from me. Don’t ever let me regain that power.” He pointed at Sera, but they understood that he was pointing at the shield. “If the Hive regains that, then we play into the enemy’s hands…”

There was still so much that didn’t make sense, and the confusion was made worse when the devil dug his own claws into his own chest, ruthlessly clawing and letting blood run, which he collected into a crystalline vial that he generated with his powers. “Take this when I leave. This blood, and yours… and that shield. It can take you out of here. _Leave_.” The markings pulsed again, and he dropped the palm-sized vial. It didn’t shatter, but rolled at his feet. 

“Stay away from the Hive. Take that key out of here. _Be safe_.” The devil all but growled, before suddenly growing three sets of what resembled dragonfly wings, and left. It was so hurried… and there was no doubt about it now: Something was trying to control him. And that something might be a very familiar old nemesis. 

The three of them simply stood there for a short while, before Vergil finally sheathed his katana and walked up to the crystal vial, and lithely got down to pick the object up before standing to full height again. As he inspected the item, Dante let his sword flash back to his back, and rubbed his face, feeling suddenly very tired: “I didn’t hear that wrong, did I? He said Spencer? _Spencer_? Not...” He trailed off. 

“Is there a significance to that name?” Sera asked. 

“It’s, uh…”

“It’s our father’s name. Or, it’s what we knew him as, when we were children.” Vergil supplied as he pocketed the vial. 

“This doesn’t make sense! That was a devil, right? Devils don’t--” Dante cursed under his breath. “No demon or devil I know of knows what dad’s human alias was, and they never have a reason to call him that! Hell, demons don’t even call us by our names! I don’t know if any of them know our names! It’s always, you know…” He waved a hand in the air, not saying what they both knew. 

“There is power, in the name, then…” Sera broke the panic spell with an odd but aptly placed thought. “Most demons don’t act familiar, this much I know. A human name is a useful alias, but it’s a tool. There are very few devils… in fact, only one, that I would know of, that would treat something like a human name as something familiar, or even sentimental. And another devil has spoken it, which means he respects the usage of this alias.” 

No one supplied anything further. Dante had his hand at his chin, thinking hard on what this could mean. Vergil, however, simply started to fiddle with Yamato’s sageo again. So Sera had to carry the conversation: “You’re not telling me something. Your demonic heritage comes from your father, correct?”

“That would be correct.” Vergil responded without looking up. 

“Okay. 

_“The mosaic of truth  
_ _Made of individual pieces,  
_ _Alone they mean little,  
_ _But together, they paint a larger picture._

“I had suspicions, but I didn’t want to bring them up, because from where I stood, the truth was probably not important back then. It certainly wasn’t important to me, and the rest of Fortuna didn’t need to know. But your father wouldn’t happen to just be any random devil out there, would he? You must be speaking of Sparda. It would certainly explain why you were so interested in the historical texts, searching for something like it was all that was left of you…” 

Someone else might have taken this kind of conclusion and shoved it at them angrily. Or, for a Fortunan, she could have had some sort of reverent breakdown. But Dante was beginning to see that Sera did not hold the religious teachings of her home in high esteem. He briefly thought that something must have happened to her, for her to have so little… faith. 

Yet she said those last words so softly, as if she wanted to comfort him.

“You would presume correct.” Vergil answered again. “But that would be in the past.”

Sera lightly furrowed her brow, but knew there were other questions to be asked: “What are your thoughts on our assailant?”

Dante shook his head. “Not a damn clue. What few friends pops might have had, they either went a little crazy from his disappearance, or they haven’t been in touch for a long time. And I do mean a long time. I’ve killed a few, helped a few, but never had any of them called him _Spencer_ to my face before. I’ve only ever…” He almost choked on his own emotions for a moment, before forcing the words out: “I’ve only ever heard our mom call him that.”

“We also grew up somewhat isolated. Very few visitors beyond public service workers. But it was so early in our childhood, that we aren’t guaranteed to remember every face that walked through our doors.” Said Vergil. “Even then, we largely hadn’t known how different we were back then. And if any devil would have visited, they would have taken a human guise, just like our father.”

“So there you have it. It’s concerning because we don’t know a damn demon out there that should know this name, and we don’t know what this information means!” Dante threw his hands up. “Also, nice of him to give us his blood. Except what are we supposed to do with it? Use it how? Those are some crappy instructions! Maybe the next time someone makes a key, it should actually _look_ like a key?”

“We may need to get further answers from somewhere. It’s clear that he won’t be a safe source, seeing his… condition…” Vergil closed his eyes briefly, unpleasant thoughts probably running through his head. “Though I believe I might understand this key a little better. There’s something I found once. In one of father’s books that I recovered from…” He trailed off. It wasn’t very often that Vergil would do that, but Dante couldn’t blame him. 

Returning to that manor as a child, finding only traces of death and destruction…

“I had found something within a book on proper katana care, along with supplemental writings regarding practice katas. It was what father was using to train me in my basics when we were young.”

“Right. Dad always took a more _refined_ approach with you, with books and ‘form practice.’ I did just fine with the good old hands on method.” Dante rolled his eyes, but it was actually kind of a sweet memory. He was always impatient as a child, and their father had to resort to teaching Dante through trials and sparring from the get-go. 

“Besides the point, Dante.” He shot him an irritated glare. “The book wasn’t even in English. It was originally written in Japanese, but the edition sent was a Chinese translation with English scrawled into certain places on the margins. I had found a letter in it, addressed to our father, using the name Spencer.”

“Okay. So the old man had a pen pal from the East?”

“I believe it was more than that.” Vergil’s brow creased as he tried to recall the letter. “At the time, the only thing that mattered to me in the letter was the mention of Fortuna. That was how I first became curious about the island, though it took me a long time before I decided it was worth looking into. It was almost a very mundane letter.”

He didn’t continue, but Dante wanted to know. “You gotta give me more than that, Verge. Otherwise I can’t see how that’s connected to our current problem.”

“To start, the correspondence was in response to something our father had sent to them. They had sent the letter along with the book, in congratulations of our birth, it would appear.”

Dante was already beginning to feel his world spin a little. This was implying that his family had a social circle. Sparda had a social circle. Yes, he was around for 2000 years but after having dealt with Baul and Modeus, and then with Fortuna, Dante wasn’t willing to believe that their father had anything left that resembled a normal social relationship save for their late mother. 

“There was some small apology for not being in the right region to be procuring a manual regarding European swords, and even some… ribbing, at our father, for splitting his power into such divergent forms. It wasn’t a very formal letter, to be honest. The writer dedicated a whole paragraph to why the return address was to some boring English city, asking if he was ever going back to Fortuna, seeing as he had once trained a whole knightly order there that would make it a safer place. It also asked when he would be visiting him again. The writer joked about being in permanent house arrest, but I wouldn’t know what the meaning behind that was. According to that letter, there was a photo attached of the writer’s family, but it wasn’t anywhere between the pages of that book, so I would assume father took it out. The rest of the letter wasn’t useful to me, so I skimmed over the parts about his own family.”

Okay, so maybe this letter was more mundane than Dante thought. Because it still answered nothing about their current predicament. Dragging his hand down his face, he asked: “Well, I suppose the only thing that answers is that dad had a friend.”

“No, this information might come to be important if we have to… negotiate or debilitate over our next step. Sera, you said Roy spoke to you a lot about his family?”

She had crossed her arms during this conversation and remained patiently to the side this entire time. “Yes. Random, sometimes even unsolicited things about their behaviors, their likes, sometimes even their talents.”

“Does he happen to have a twin brother and a younger sister?”

“Evan and Kassandra, yes.” Sera seemed to find the way the pieces fell together to be amusing. “Ah. So there’s some connection here, somewhere?”

“Dante. We have on us a devil arm that appears to hold a large sum of a devil’s power, that requires the blood of Sparda and the blood of a third party in order for us to ‘get out of here.’ Tell me, does this sound familiar? Parallel to something we knew?”

“The Temen-ni-gru…? Wait, this is one of his creations?”

“More like, something he had a hand in. It means that it wouldn’t be hard for me to find out how to work this key, by using it with the Yamato. However…” He finally looked over at Sera, who hadn’t said much. “I don’t believe it to be... well mannered, to leave without attempting to find Roy. In some manner of speaking, we owe it to him.”

Well, good. It looks like Vergil was learning. Dante grinned: “Alright. Guess it’s time to go crash the castle, huh?”

* * *

The rules of engagement for Nero and Snow’s spar was simple. Swords and whatever manner of devil abilities they had for brawn. No guns, and Nero saw no reason to fight using the Devil Breakers. So Blue Rose, his breakers, and even his coat were left in the guest hall. 

(“Ah, that is a shame. I was hoping to see your technology in action.” Snow had said to Nico.

“Don’t worry, Princess. I’ll have Nero give you a good demo of my babies at a later time. You hear that, Nero?”

“If you’re going to use me for your advertisement demos, also, then you’d better start paying _me,_ Nico!)

It was a bit of a walk through the house, where Snow led them all the way to the back. She directed Nico up a set of stairs: “There’s a balcony up there for the purpose of overseeing the training grounds back here. You’re also free to smoke up there.”

The training grounds were well-lit, and spacious. It was actually pretty empty, but glancing around, Nero noticed a few sheds that probably contained things for training. 

Arbitrarily picking the right side of the field, Nero propped Red Queen in front of him, considering if he wanted to start off the fight with his EX engine engaged. But he should probably start this slow. 

Snow took to the left, and Nero realized that she hadn’t taken up a weapon. “Hey, you aren’t planning on fighting me bare-handed, are you?”

Snow smiled. “I always carry my weapon with me, just like you.” And she reached for the snowflake hairpin in her hair. In a shimmering white, the small and dainty hair accessory transformed, and Nero found himself curiously surprised at the weapon that was now in her hand:

White scabbard, golden sash, long and elegant form. With the weapon in her left hand, Snow slowly shifted into a very familiar stance, with her right hand hovering over the katana’s tsuka. 

_That’s some bit of irony, right there_. Nero thought as he twirled Red Queen, shifting into an actual battle stance as well. 

They didn’t need to be told when to start. Their stances said it all. Nero saw how Snow shifted her foot, and so he prepared her first move. 

What happened next, he couldn’t really call it a teleport. It wasn’t instantaneous, but she was fast. More than that, it was the way that she seemed to go into a blind spot, and there she was, drawing her blade against his. He was familiar with this stance though… seen it before. 

They barely crossed swords a few times before Snow circled into his blind spot again, but then no other advance came. He turned to find that she had backed off, instead of pressing, katana sliding back into its sheath. 

“That’s a pretty nice sword you have there. But I’m sure it does more than that.” Nero grinned. It was time to up the ante. When he said that, he set Red Queen before him, and twisted her ignition. Snow’s eyes seemed to light up in curiosity, and remained where she was to see what Nero does next. 

He lunged forward, and sliced down with a fiery swing. It wasn’t surprising that she dodged, and she also whistled. “Beautiful! Did Nicoletta create that, too?”

“Not exactly. It’s a long story, I’ll tell you later.” He swung again, and this time, when Snow dodged, he gave Red Queen a well-timed rev, igniting a level of the EX gauge to set his next swing ablaze. 

Snow parried the flaming blade with her entire sword and sheath, side-stepped, and Nero noticed her tap at the handle of her blade with two fingers. Expecting her to show him a trick of hers, he adjusted himself to be on defensive as she pulled her blade out swiftly to attack. 

It was then when he noticed that the colour of her blade was also a light icy blue, almost white. The air about the blade seemed to mist, and suddenly Nero was flipping out of the way of ice crystals that were generated in the path that the blade had taken. 

The ice in the air seemed to dissipate into the air as well. Snow sheathed her blade, and said: “How’s that for more?”

“Pretty cool.” He responded cheekily. “Where did you get that from?”

“Family commissioned it from Japan! It’s got a story behind it.” She grinned, and once again took a familiar stance, closing the gap between them to draw her blade at him. 

They would trade a few blows, fire against ice now, and then Snow would back off, sheath her blade, and re-orient before they started anew. Whenever he initiated, she was also impeccable with her guard, but he noticed that it put her in the best position to counterattack. 

And then, she paused, and said: “Well, the same dance can get a little boring, don’t you think.” And she held her katana out in front of her to pull it out of its sheath. It was an oddly deliberate move, and when she was finished, she charged him again, but in a very different manner than she did before: it was no longer a guarded stance. 

The sheath itself had turned into a blade, also. A kodachi. And her next attacks were wider, with more impact. A complete and total style change. Nero felt some form of excitement in this fight, now that she’s picked up the pace. With that…

He gave Red Queen a perfect rev after a swing, and then changed at her with his blade entirely engulfed in the power of a third-level EX charge attack. She responded with a flourish, and he could see the entire air about her begin to mist. Even with the flames about him, he could tell that there was a temperature drop. 

_Oh, this was going to be good._

They clashed, and it was a large flare of flame from one side and ice on the other. Parting and each sliding to a stop at the opposite sides of the field where they originally started from, Nero took in a breath of fresh air, anticipation running through him. He even heard Nico whoop from the viewing balcony. On the other side of the field, Snow took one breath, exhaled, and then took another breath in a deep and deliberate manner. 

The next attack that Nero parried suddenly felt a lot heavier. Snow was continuously increasingly the level at which she was fighting at. She became less reserved about using her ice abilities, as when Nero parried three of her heavy attacks, she backed off, transformed her kodachi back to sheath her sword again, and an entire array of icy pikes formed about her. 

Nero knew exactly what he was to expect from this. When the first one came flying towards him, he shattered it with a swing of his sword, and then he dodged the next few. When the last one came flying, he had wanted to shoot it down, but he didn’t have Blue Rose on him. So instead, he grabbed it with his Bringer skill, and threw it right back at her. 

Snow knocked it aside with a swipe of her tail, and suddenly, Nero noticed how her tail had changed. Before, it was thinner, and probably more easily concealable. Now, it had thickened, with more thorns running down it, and the barb at the end looked even more dangerous. The golden undertones burned bright. 

Knowing he didn’t need to hide his hand(s) anymore, Nero summoned both of his spectral arms, and beckoned at her with one of them: _come on_. 

Coming to blows this time was a flurry of different attacks that no normal person would be able to keep up with. Snow used her tail almost like a scorpion, but then when she decided to mix it up a little, she would block with it holding her katana’s saya, or attacking with her tail holding the transformed kodachi. 

At one point, however, Nero got really sick of dealing with the icicles being thrown towards him when he didn’t have his gun, but then he remembered something:

The swords that he would generate when he was using Devil Trigger with the gun. He hadn’t thought of it much before, but Vergil had the exact same ability, but in place of using a gun, didn’t he? His precision with it would have been admirable if Nero weren’t so busy trying to beat some sense into his skull. And though he still had mixed feelings over how similar they were, he had to admit: now would be a good time to put it to use. 

Drawing upon the ability as best he could, without Triggering, he tested it on the next impending projectile. The satisfaction of the icy pike bursting into fragments against his spectral blade stroked his fire. 

Seeing that, Snow suddenly sheathed her katana again, and held it with her tail to free both hands. “Oh, yeah? Time for bullet hell, then!” Another deliberate and deep breath, and Nero had to whistle, impressed by what he was seeing:

It was like the setting of a stage, ice protruding about her, the ground at her feet freezing over. Several sets of her icy projectiles formed in the air, and he could tell she was about to go all out. As they sped towards him, he put his new skill with his summoned swords to the test. 

Precision appeared to be no problem, but after shattering a few projectiles, it became clear that the speed at which he generated the swords left some room to be desired. So he had to still dodge and parry with his sword, but that was all okay. The fight was still exhilarating. He’ll find another day to practice his summoned sword skills. 

Snow was definitely putting on the pressure, as she met him in the middle of the field, continuing to trade blows with him while generating almost never-ending amounts of ice, both to send flying towards him, and to put him off balance from ice-pillars breaking out from the ground. He had contemplated on dealing with her tail attacks by catching it and throwing her by her own tail, but thought that was a bit too much for a friendly spar. (He will have no reservations about doing so to Vergil the next time they met, however!)

But eventually, Nero found an opening that was too good to pass up. He grabbed her arm with his spectral Bringer, and spun them both around to fling her across the field, right into one of the icy pillars she had generated beforehand. 

The fight paused as the pillar broke down from her impact. Dust and mist were beginning to settle and dissipate. Nero felt like he could still go, and waited. He still had an entire Devil Trigger to burn if he wanted to.

But the question is, was Snow still up for it?

She stood, breath ragged, hands _shaking_ as she sheathed her blade. The gaze she held told of something bitter and fragile… almost upset, yet without animosity. Like there was a lingering pain...

He was worried for a moment, that maybe he had actually managed to hurt her in a way that she couldn’t recover from. Yet she seemed… physically uninjured, as she walked towards him. 

“Nero…” The way she said his name… it was like she was in disbelief. His grip on Red Queen loosened slightly. Something in the air felt heavy, almost like the atmosphere before rain. 

“I gave you my all…” The words came out like dainty yet chilling snowflakes brushing past him on a soft breeze. “That was _everything_ I had. And yet, I am…” She looked away, hand rising up to her mouth as she thought about what to say next, breathing still uneven. 

“Never have I felt so relieved that I’ve _lost_.” She continued, voice cracking. When she met his gaze again, Nero’s mouth felt dry with his anxiety, mind racing about where this was going. “I’ve lost. _I have lost_. Nero, all my life, I seemed to have something my cousins did not. Made from a different mould, sourced from a different power. More raw strength, more stamina, and an uncanny ability to outperform the rest of my family members…” 

Her grip on her katana tightened, and she once again lowered her head. Her shoulders were trembling. “On all accounts I stood forever apart, and yet they loved me still. They loved me so much that when it became clear that I had a target on my back, they would sooner protect me than to…” A hiccup sounded, and she forcefully continued: “It was a love wasted on me. My very existence was a liability from the start. They could have sent me far away, so long ago. Or even…” She trailed off, and when she lifted her head again, Nero could see the tears welling up in her eyes as her volume heightened, almost like she was trying to convince herself of something:

“If they were to be the shield, then I should have been their blade! But I couldn’t measure up. It took everything I had to kill that Vespen Knight, and by then it was too late. They took my mother, and killed my aunt. I spent the last few days holed up here with my wards, alone and utterly hopeless, trying to get drunk on everything in my mother’s cabinet. But you… you answered my call, and you told me that you’d put up more than a last stand. For me, and my family.” Her words tapered off as the tears streamed down her face. 

“Is that a promise, Nero?” A question on a whisper. Her last hope in the glacier of tragedy. 

Nero didn’t want to wait for any further words from her. Flipping Red Queen up to put her away at his back, he crossed the distance in three strides and pulled her into a tight hug. “It’s a promise, Snow. No more losing family.” 

Her crying burst into sobbing, and her tears burned hot into his shoulder. 

It was like a heat wave that wiped away a blizzard, before everything settled into a balance that said: Everything is going to be all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I feel like I’ve done something very foolish; the last time I wrote poetry/verse in Chinese, I was in fourth grade, back when I went to grade school in China. Is this any good? Probably not. Will I take pointers? ...Please don’t, I don’t plan on becoming a Chinese Literature expert. The reason why I wanted to use Chinese was for Snow’s “mood.” It’s, uh… flavour and flair. Not a work of art. Thank you for understanding.  
> \- By the way, I used a homophone. Blazing and Crimson are not the same word, but they sound the same. The word used is Blazing. Why? Because wordplay is important in Chinese.  
> \- Also, yes, absolutely, I am weaving a very tight web here, making everyone connected in some way or another. But this is the kind of beauty I LIVE for!  
> \- There is an ever so slight disregard to the DMC3 manga. I thought hard about it and decided to go for impact over “100% canon.” I hope that doesn’t make this fic less enjoyable in any way…  
> \- Royal Guard is totally my favorite stance; I’m a sucker for counter-plays! So I have a small headcanon for how it works!  
> \- I have been very lightly referencing another anime for some of the details I’ve been writing into this. =P  
> \- *inhales* I uh… I hope Snow is likeable. Honestly the whole reason I wanted to write this story was because of Sera and Snow. I wanted soft Sera and Vergil stuff and then I really really really wanted “Dante being awkward dad to adult daughter” because “Dante being awkward uncle” was not enough for me lol.


	5. Of Woven Threads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, they were about to have _that_ conversation. The conversation that usually would be something out of one of those soap operas that Patty sometimes watched at Dante's office. 
> 
> But Dante knew better. This conversation was going to be nothing like what you see on TV. Because those people on TV didn't have him there to save the day.
> 
> Meanwhile, to the irony of his own ignorance, Nicoletta Goldstein drums up a partnership with Snow. Because why not add another potential client into her lists?

_A gift from moonlight  
_ _Pale and bright,  
_ _Falls upon a bloom._

 _From ethereal beauty  
_ _Forms an untold story,  
_ _Woven with remnants of you._

 _And may this tale’s life  
_ _Be made of joy and delight,  
_ _With sweetness and spice;  
_ _Chasing away the bitterness  
_ _That comes with strife._

 _May it reach you someday  
_ _Like the golden sun’s rays..._

_For you to reflect with warmth and pride._

* * *

Seraphina Valkyrie rarely felt like she couldn’t be candid. 

Most of her memories came back when she was able to sleep. But sleep was a hard-to-afford luxury in Hell. Though Vergil and Dante could easily keep watch, she didn’t think they would wish to waste any more time.

And while memories trickled back, she felt a creeping anxiety. 

Something in the back of her mind kept giving her the feeling that she was running out of time. 

That she had been running out of time since before she could remember. 

Ever since the last time she had woken up, the pain from her scar was also accompanied by the anxiety that she needed to protect something. At first, she wasn’t sure what it was. 

But then she started to remember a moment where she was sitting at her kitchen table, writing something. She couldn’t remember the exact words she had written. (You write things down because you would forget later, after all…) But she remembered thinking about moonlight. About joy. About V.

And about _something he had left behind with her_. 

A short while after she had asked the scorpion-devil where Roy was, something about the tone of his answer reminded Sera of a time when an anxious citizen had told her in a shaky voice that his daughter was still in a building with demons. 

Her fingers brushed against the scar at her abdomen. 

Her memories were incomplete. The presence of the scar, along with what memories she had now, made her run hypotheticals with scarily depressing answers. 

Worse yet, how was she going to address any of this with V? (She rather liked thinking of Vergil with the moniker she had chosen to call him by.)

Neither conversation seemed like a pleasant one to have. It was either a conversation about a child that did not survive, or a conversation that she might have _abandoned_ their child somewhere. 

There was also the matter of uncertainty over what he would think of said child’s existence, past tense or not. 

* * *

They had agreed that, if the shield was taking them towards the devil from which it was created, and the devil was a part of this “Hive” that held Roy, then it would at least be possible to eventually arrive at said Hive. 

Dante tried asking his brother if he had heard anything about this “Hive” before. 

Vergil has said plainly and impassively: “I was hardly myself for most of the time I was down here, brother.”

And Dante immediately shut up. 

This was one of the few times that he would say he truly had a stupid moment. Sure, there was a time when it seemed Vergil would have all the answers, whether one asked for it or not. But the reality of the situation was, he had lost more than a few handful of years to being a puppet and a wraith. 

So they were pretty much all going in blind this time.

Sera then asked: “Since I don’t really understand the machinations of devils and demons, and the Order’s scriptures were barely useful… What exactly would be the reason for them to keep a part-devil, or anything human, captive? As far as I can remember, I’m pretty sure I’m considered food.”

Dante wanted to give her a nonchalant kind of answer, but Vergil, surprisingly, answered before he could: “Tools. Devils who have the ability to bend and break the will of others can use humans, part-devils, and even their own kind, as puppets and tools.”

It was a terse and tense answer. One that Dante didn’t think they were going to touch up on. (Just because he was planning on being nonchalant, didn’t mean he didn’t know the answer. He thought that maybe his brother wouldn’t want to bring anything of that sort up.)

And he already knew that Sera would not be overlooking these details. She definitely had a good head on her shoulders, and he’d wager that if she weren’t perceptive, then Vergil wouldn’t have found her to be worthy of his time and attention. 

She could have pressed for more details. But again, she appeared to opt not to. Still, there was proof that she understood something otherwise unstated, when she told Vergil gently: “I’m glad you’re okay.” 

And for a little while in their journey, that was that. Dante was still lost in his own head for a bit, considering the implications of all that he’s learnt so far. 

What should they do when they get to the Hive? 

Years ago, his life was simple, despite being tragic: if there was something big and causing trouble out there, kill it. 

But at one point, look where “fight first, think later” got him?

If something at this Hive was making puppets out of devils and people alike, then there’s a good chance they are doing to Roy what they clearly were trying to do to the devil that had tried to warn them away.

Dante knew that, though few and far between, there were demons and devils who found no pleasure (or at least no benefit) to merging the human world with the underworld, and there were even a few that appreciated the human world. And in the case of this possibly being a family friend--

Vergil suddenly stopped and looked between the two others of the party: “Something is on both of your minds. And you’re both bothered.”

Dante noticed Sera’s hand briefly tracing down the scar at her abdomen, looking away in anxious thought. 

And he responded to Vergil in the only way that he knew how: “Why, I didn’t know you cared about what was on my mind, Verge.”

“ _Dante_.”

From the tone alone, he knew he messed up. And he immediately regretted it. The reflex was hard to control, and he just blurted out the first thing on his mind. Guilt was already seeping into his bones as he listened to Vergil continue:

“I am, contrary to what you might believe, trying. I debilitated over asking you at all. It would not be hard for me to, as you say, go back to not caring.” 

“Shit, I’m sorry. Really, I am. Just… It was like this between us for so long.” He kicked at the ground, head down for a moment with his hands at his hips. “Guess we both got some work cut out for us, huh?”

Vergil didn't usually sigh. Instead, he would give pointed long looks, and slow blinks that were hard to read. And that was exactly what he did in response, before asking again: “Well, is there anything else you’d like to share, little brother?”

“Yeah. Uh… how do you break someone’s puppet strings without damn near killing them? You, uh…” He thought about bringing up how not just anyone could survive such an ordeal in the first place, and truth be told, anyone that wasn’t _Vergil_ probably would simply die. But he didn’t think this was something Sera should hear from him, so he changed what he wanted to say: “If dad has any friends left that deserves better, maybe it would be nice if we, you know… didn’t have to kill them.” 

Maybe he could have done better, done right, by Baal and Modeus. Maybe not everything had to be done by the language of demons. 

“Near as I know, defeating or killing the puppeteer so that the one being controlled can break free on their own would be one method, though not a guaranteed one. I can’t say I have been present for any other methods.”

Vergil left a lot unsaid, and Dante cursed under his breath. 

His brother then continued: “There are often two major means I’ve seen used in order to make soldiers out of otherwise unwilling subjects. The quickest means would be to render the subject as unconscious as possible, and use them as the core to an artificial demon that otherwise had no soul. Over a long period of time, the subject would, for the lack of better terms, be absorbed completely into the demon, forming a new entity.”

“Wait a minute, that sounds-”

“Familiar? Yes. The length of time it takes for the subject and the host to combine varies, depending on the strength of the subject. Your… friends, still had a long way to go before they would have been in any true danger. That method will quickly yield a working subject to command, but they are structurally vulnerable until they become whole.”

“Okay, and the other method would be…?” Dante already knew the answer, but maybe Vergil would have more information to provide about it?

“More time consuming would be the method of poison, both physical and mental. It’s… a method of grooming through torture, slowly breaking the subject’s pysche down until they are no longer willing to think for themselves. There are no issues with the subject being physically freed from a host, but mentally, a strong subject will tend to rebel for long periods of time, until they finally break. Or they simply do not survive the process. There are also tell-tale signs of when this method is used, as the poison is of magical and demonic nature.” He involuntarily brought a hand up towards the side of his face, but then lowered it back down to the Yamato, his one hand’s grip on it already tight.

Dante’s heart sunk like a stone in the vast ocean. He thought back to Mallet Island, of what he had seen. He should be asking about this more in private, but damn, he didn’t want to wait this out anymore. Sera would have to know, eventually. And Dante couldn’t keep all this pain to himself anymore: “Mundus used both methods on you.” 

Vergil did not want to dignify that with an answer, and Dante couldn’t blame him. Instead, the older twin said: “Theoretically speaking, the Yamato can cut such a poison out from its host. If the poison had enough time to develop, it may develop into… a demon. A parasite.” _A nightmare_. Dante could hear the unspoken reference. “Though, without a host, it would eventually die.”

“I hear a ‘however’ in this method.” Sera, having been silent throughout most of this discussion, had also taken half a step closer to Vergil as certain information came to light.

“To say it’s extremely painful would be a given. And I would need time to carefully rend the poison from someone else’s body and soul. The subject would have to remain conscious, possibly restrained, and more importantly, they would have to survive the process through force of will. And healing thereafter is another matter, as the poison being cut away would literally be the corrupt pieces of a person’s soul. It would be a difficult process for both parties involved.”

A difficult process, which Vergil had performed on himself. 

Dante sucked in a breath of air, tasting the ash and dust of Hell unwittingly. “Hey, bro… you know that ugly mess that happened recently? Well, in spite of all of that, I want you to know that I’m glad you survived it.” He then grinned and tried his best to make light of the situation, more for himself than anyone else: “And I’m happy to remind you of that whenever you forget.”

True to his form, his brother scoffed. But Dante could read the pause and lingering gaze after: acceptance; acceptance of Dante’s forgiveness. 

Still, they couldn’t linger on this topic forever. Vergil turned towards Sera and said to her: “You are upset.”

“Very… direct.” She glanced away, nervous. 

“You do not have to share, but I believe you are usually more candid. Or perhaps you were simply very good at hiding what you did not want to share.” 

Sera shook her head. “No, you’re right. I am often candid. It’s a trait I would say has served me well when dealing with…” She waved a hand in the air, signifying something that Dante did not understand, but he supposed that Vergil did. Sera then sighed, and slowly began to pace as she continued:

“There’s a lot on my mind. Things I’m remembering, that are bringing unpleasant thoughts. I don’t know about bringing them up, because I simply… don’t have all the facts.” Pause. Breath. Turn. 

She slowly paced in the other direction. “I know it’s also not my business, but it’s clear that a lot happened between the two of you. So I don’t really want to get in the way of what you two need to sort out, or worse yet… make it worse.” She stopped pacing again, and glanced nervously at Vergil. 

“V, I… I wasn’t exactly expecting to see you again. I did hope, yes, but I wasn’t holding you to it. And I supposed the greatest unexpected thing of right now is that, if anything, I wasn’t expecting to see you in Hell. Or that I would be in Hell. I just…” Her anxious energy could be seen in how she began to twirl her wrists and pick at the weapons at her arms. 

Whatever it was on her mind, Dante could tell that it wasn’t something she felt certain of talking about to Vergil, because she wasn’t able to bring herself to look at him. 

“And at the moment, whatever I had prepared myself to deal with simply did not come to pass. Instead, I am here. Lacking possibly 20 or more years of time, not even knowing myself what transpired to result in my arrival here. Yet there’s still something I ought to speak to you about. It just… it shouldn’t be like this. It shouldn’t have been here. It should have been…” A tear was rolling down her cheek, and she wiped it away quickly and abashedly. “It should have been a conversation to have, should you ever visit me again. I didn’t really have a lot of expectations. Only that if you show up at my doorstep again, you at least… deserved to know… something...” She trailed off.

Dante was beginning to connect the dots. Is this a good time for this conversation? At this point, is any time going to be a good time? Should they wait until after they get out of here? 

He honestly wasn’t sure if the conversation would be any better if it waits. 

Sera then shook her head. “Perhaps now is not a good time. I don’t want to make things more complicated for you.”

Interestingly enough, Vergil responded: “You might find it hard pressed for anything to get more complicated for me.”

And Dante found an opening: “I’m holding you to that. You’d be surprised, Verge. World’s changed a lot, and I’m willing to bet you’ve barely learned all that is new in the one month I’d been out of commission. There’s plenty of new stuff that could make your head spin!” Some of it made _his_ head spin, but that’s not part of the discussion right now. 

Meanwhile, Sera sighed and corrected: “Maybe complicated isn’t the word. I think it’s more like… it’s going to be an upsetting conversation. And I don’t want to bring you more upsetting news.”

Everyone fell to silence. 

Dante was not surprised that Vergil wasn’t saying anything. Oh, he’s sure his brother knew what precipice they were standing on. 

But if Dante were to be honest: if he were Vergil, he wouldn’t know how to ease into this topic, either.

Well, good thing he wasn't Vergil, was he? 

And good thing he knows the initial shock of such a conversation was already dealt with at the top (bottom?) of the Qliphoth. 

So maybe it was time he saved the day a little. 

Shrugging, he started: “I know this is a hard conversation to have, and it’s a hard one to start, but I think this is where I come in.” 

While Sera gave him an understandably confused look, Vergil narrowed his eyes. So Dante continued before he could be interrupted: “Let me do this. I know you don’t like it when I get into your business, Verge, but let me do this for you, okay? Besides, I’m pretty much part of this story now, too. You might as well let me start at the actual beginning, and not, you know… at the part right before we ended up down here.” 

He knows Vergil didn’t like it. But he also knew that his brother knew he was _right_. Still, the two ticks of silence were still too long for him, so Dante tried again: “Please, Vergil. This conversation is bound to happen. And she should know. It’s clearly upsetting her right now.”

Something flickered in his brother’s eyes. Understanding. And so Vergil finally agreed with a slow nod: “It might be better this way, to let you tell it. After all, you were there longer than I was.” 

Right. But not long enough. And not well enough, either. But here, Dante felt the chance to start setting a few things right. Will this make up for not telling Nero anything? Maybe. Maybe not. But the past was the past.

“So, about five to six years ago, the girls… that’s, uh, my friends, Lady and Trish. They dragged me into a job regarding Fortuna. More like, Lady tried to coerce me. I didn’t want to go since I had zero interest in going to a place that was worshipping my old man as a god. Pretty weird and stuff, you know?”

Seeing that Dante was speaking to her, Sera started, but then got her bearings together: “That would be awkward, yes.”

“Seven kinds of awkward. But Trish forced my hand. She snuck in, got intel, and got me into the castle town. Thought things were gonna be pretty easy, so I crashed a party at the cathedral. Except Trish saw fit to keep certain pieces of information from me. Probably thought it would be funny to see my reaction. But I got my face kicked in by one of the Holy Knights. Not that I knew he was a knight at the time. Only saw him fighting demons out of uniform before I made it to my destination.”

Sera didn’t know where this was going, but Dante heard Vergil hold back a laugh. Though Dante had told his brother that he had indeed met Nero in Fortuna for a job, there weren’t a lot of details back then, because all of their conversations quickly devolved into fights or plain squabbles. 

Good to know Vergil found it amusing. 

“Kid probably wasn’t part of the security detail that day, and was just there for the event. But hey, listen. I was in a pretty rough spot in life. Thought my brother had been dead for more than a few years.” 

He knew the story was getting a little bit all over the place, and Sera’s concerned look towards Vergil made Dante feel a little guilty. But he had to get to the point:

“Image my surprise when, after everyone else evacuated, I was standing in an empty church dedicated to Sparda, facing a teenager with familiar features: White hair, blue eyes.” He smirked at Vergil. “And a scowl that made me think I saw a ghost.”

He could see Vergil wanting to give retort to that, but his brother knitted his brow and forced himself not to interrupt. Dante was actually hoping he would, because the conversation needed to start somewhere. So he finally forced the ball into their court: “So if you were worried about something you left behind, well… Can’t say the orphanage and the city was too kind on the kid, but he’s doing well. And he’d be happy to meet you, you know.” 

Interestingly, Sera’s immediate reaction was a sharp inhale, and clenched fists: “Orphanage? Did you say _orphanage_?” Her mind was definitely reeling, from the way she immediately started pacing and mumbling: “That doesn’t make any sense. If I didn’t think… if I thought I… I wouldn’t have gone there, if all places! And… no, why can’t I—” 

She froze mid-step, and then turned to them both, eyes wide. “You knew. You knew before I was able to even remember.” Her breath shook, and she tried to force her breathing to even back out, while closing her eyes and bringing her steepled hands before her chin. 

After a moment, when she finally seemed calm enough, she opened her eyes and said: “You must have questions.”

“Not as many as you might think I have.And probably not more than what’s on your mind.” Vergil responded. “Though Dante may be more equipped to answer your questions than I, seeing as I’ve barely been back in the proper land of the living for a month.”

“You… were dead?”

“In a fashion. And that’s putting it lightly.” 

Vergil was fiddling with Yamato’s sageo again as he said that. 

Sera was incredulous and borderline furious: “ _Lightly_?”

“What I was, could barely be called living. If I were living, then I can say that I was living in a nightmare.” He responded softly. 

Meanwhile, Dante thought he had done enough work (and mild damage) for now, and took a few steps back to give them space. 

He watched as Sera thought through her options, pacing, then stopping, and coming to some manner of conclusion by coming up in front of Vergil and tentatively reaching out to him.

Dante almost held his breath, wondering what this meant. His brother absolutely did not like being touched without consent, and it was clear that she knew that. 

The gesture was a question. 

And Vergil looked at her outstretched hand, a slight tremble in her fingertips, and let go of fiddling with the Yamato’s sash to bring his hand up to hers, palm up, but not touching. A gesture of acceptance. 

Instead of placing her hand in his, she took another step forward, threaded her right arm under his left arm to wrap around towards his back, pulled herself closer, and brought her left hand up to his shoulder instead. Leaning into his shoulder, she asked in a whisper that Dante would not have heard if it weren’t for his sharp hearing:

“What is his name?” She asked. 

“Nero…” The name rolled off Vergil’s tongue with no hesitation, but his physical response held a pause before he finally moved his hand to thread his fingers through her hair. “And he is every bit as tenacious as you are, and more than I could ever deserve. I barely knew him for even a full day, nor did I know who he was at the time.” He then added as an afterthought: “I thought he was Dante’s, seeing as I had been missing from my brother’s life for a long time.”

Dante’s brain stalled for a moment. That was a very valid consideration, wasn’t it? It wasn't that he hadn’t thought of it, but because he became certain of Nero’s parentage very early, the notion that Nero might have (however impossibly) been his was often forgotten. 

Sera hummed, and turned her head from Vergil’s shoulder to look at Dante. “How long ago did you meet him?”

“About five to six years ago, if we haven’t been stuck here for too long. Knew who he was the moment I saw him with the Yamato.” He pointed at the sword in Vergil’s hand. “She’s a fickle blade. Won’t react to me even though I’m her master’s twin. She’ll let me use her only on a begrudging basis, but she will sing for Nero. And Nero was able to repair her.”

“He did more than just repair the Yamato. Though she is a Devil Arm that requires less care than a normal weapon, he still took care of her.” Vergil glanced down at the sword, and then pulled away from Sera’s embrace just enough to hold the sword up within her field of vision to show her something: “At some point, he replaced her sageo. The sash...my father had me replace it with a new one when he had given me the blade. Over time, it must have gotten worn down without my power repairing it, and Nero saw fit to replace it with a new one.”

Huh. Dante hadn’t actually noticed. He barely saw Nero use the blade, and saw him even less after he started going mobile with Nico. 

Now that he thought about it, that cord used to be yellow. 

Still, now he wondered if there was a deeper meaning behind Vergil’s nervous fiddling with the blue sash. 

Was it possible that… the thought of Nero grounds him to some sort of reality or conviction?

Or maybe he was reading into things too hard again. 

Sera was now examining the long blue cord with a forlorn fascination, letting the sash slip through her fingers. 

“How old is he, now? How long have I… been gone from his life?”

Dante could only shrug. “I don’t actually know?”

Now both Sera and Vergil were giving him incredulous looks. 

“Dante.” Well, there was Vergil’s disapproving tone again. “You have known him for almost six years and yet you never asked his age?”

“What? Was it pertinent information? He was a Holy Knight by then and could take care of himself.” 

Sera shook her head. “I have questions over why this logic prevails over common sense. And I’m ashamed to say that I currently cannot remember when his birthday would be…” 

Dante could only try his best to placate the situation with a depressing excuse: “Hey, you’re asking someone who has been treating his own birthday as a memorial of his brother’s death for over twenty years. Nero’s birthday and age were the last things that came to mind as important… at the time… though I do know it’s somewhere in March. I’ve, uh… received invitations before. Never made the trip.” 

Vergil audibly hissed at this confession, knowing that he was the cause of many of Dante’s emotional scars. But there was more that needed to be answered:

“Dante, how old are _we_ , then.” 

There were two ways Dante could have answered this. Three, if he actually had a proper answer. One of these answers was terrible in light of everything Vergil had admitted about his state of being. So that left: “Stopped counting. Sorry.” He could do the math, but that wouldn’t be fun now, would it?

“You…” His brother was clearly losing patience over Dante’s lack of answers. “I ask you again, my idiot brother: where did you learn to count?”

So he shrugged again. “Choosing not to doesn’t mean I don’t know how!”

“Fine! Then do me a favor and remind me what the year was before we had to come down to Hell to do yard work.”

Dante scoffed for once. “And some shitty yard this is!” But he at least knew the answer to the question and told Vergil the calendar year they were in before coming to Hell. 

“...Then Nero should be 23. And for the record, Dante, _you’re 41_. You should have no reason to be forgetting that, now.”

Dante could only give his brother one of his trademark grins that said ‘yeah sure whatever you say’, which earned a brief glare from Vergil. Still, in his heart, he felt pretty ecstatic. It’s been an uphill battle, but it’s beginning to look like Vergil won’t be pulling any disappearing acts!

But then, Dante did some mental math out of curiosity (once again, capability and motivation are two different things,) and realized something he should have realized from the get-go: 18. Vergil would have been 18 or barely 19 when Nero was born. And—

“...Speaking of age,” Sera said with wide eyes. “I guess I should be almost 44…? If it hits September.” She looked away, hand pressed into her own cheek, blinking in thought about this information. “I don’t feel like I’m in my 40s. And you two don’t much look like it, either. But for you, I guess devil blood does that for you?” 

Dante kept his mouth shut for once. He’d already given Vergil the “guess you didn’t know the meaning of protection” jab before, and there was no point furthering the “guess you were young once, too” conversation. He’ll insult his brother, but not Sera. 

Also, neither of the twins knew what their heritage really meant in the long term. (And she’s one to talk. He made a mental note to ask Vergil later if perhaps she hasn’t changed at all. Hell and its effects were weird.)

Sera then sighed: “Well, none of this is going to matter if we don’t get out of here, would it? 23 years… and I wasn’t there for him at all. I’m probably no more deserving of him, either.”

And then Dante felt like he had something to say again: “You know, out of the three of us here, you’ve probably hurt the kid the least. I told him zilch for about six years, and I know that punch to the face is only the beginning of everything he’s gonna want to lay on me when we get back. And Verge here… Well, uh…” Shit. That’s a can of bad worms. Maybe he shouldn’t have opened his mouth. 

“Did far worse than Dante had in six years in the matter of one minute. Nero had every right to end my life over what I’ve done, but I suppose, in hindsight, that would have been a cruel ending.” Vergil cut in, and Dante had to admit, that was… a pretty stark admittance. 

Sera inhaled sharply, and placed both of her hands on Vergil’s shoulders. Dante prepared for hearing the stern questioning that was sure to follow, wondering if maybe he should actually step in and divert things, because there gets to a point where some things need to wait for a better time and place.

But instead, she said softly: “Life is hard, being a part-devil related to Sparda, isn’t it?”

“An overgeneralization, and not the question I would expect to be asked in light of current conversation.” Vergil responded softly. 

The next intake of breath from Sera was less steady. “In light of current conversation… Let me tell you my perspective:

“I just found out that my son grew up in Fortuna’s orphanage and possibly its foster care system. I know first hand how terrible that would be, especially because I’m certain a number of people in the community would do everything they could to mar my reputation. And whatever aftermath of that, he probably couldn’t escape. 

“And beyond that, it’s plain to me now that the two of you,” She nodded over towards Dante, “Had some manner of falling out. I can only imagine what kind of problems the two of you had, and most of them will have to be a story for another time. 

“But I think the other thing that stands out to me, that has me seething right now, involves you, V.”

Though she used the word ‘seething’, her tone was instead anguished. 

“I know this is impossible, coming from me, but if this Mundus ever shows his face, I’m going to do my damndest to shred him to ribbons.”

Dante had to be impressed by the conviction in her voice; impressed by how deeply she cared already. 

“It would be impossible.” Vergil responded. “But I appreciate the sentiment, though I’m undeserving of such… strong commitment, from you…” 

Dante saw how Vergil tried to step back to free himself of Sera’s grasp, but Sera’s grip tightened. “Now listen here!” She was actually beginning to sound a smidge mad. “I know some people might call me a fool for this, but damn it all! Two whole decades have gone on without me, and nevermind how Leo and Nova are doing… There are only strangers left for me back in Fortuna! I never got to know Nero, or Kyrie, for that matter. Credo was _six_. I doubt he’ll remember me. My parents have been long dead and my grandfather disowned my mother long before I was born. This leaves _you_ as the only solid connection I have left to the living world right now. I won’t ask you to try and spin this thread any thicker than what it was before, but you _will_ allow me to worry and be upset on your behalf! Because that’s what _friends_ do at the very least! Have I made myself clear?”

By the end of it all, tears were streaming down her face. And Dante really felt for her. It’s got to be tough, surviving through Hell and learning that 20 or so years have passed. And she’s not going to have any better of a time when she gets back to Fortuna, either. 

And Vergil…who was more or less in a similar boat...

“I understand.” He said softly. 

And Sera pulled him closer to hug him, finally letting out a wailing sob and crying into the shoulder of his coat. Seeing that his brother at the very least tried to return the hug by placing his own arm about her shoulders, expression stunned, Dante decided this was probably what could be considered a good outcome. 

He let his mind wander for a bit, hoping that when they got back, the whole situation regarding Kyrie’s family won’t break Sera. Eventually, he was broken out of his thoughts when he heard:

“Hey, you!”

Dante’s attention snapped up to see that Sera extended a beckoning arm out towards him.

“Who, me?” He pointed at himself. 

“Yes, _you_.” She hissed through a hiccup. “Get over here. You’re not exempt from this, and you’ve said it yourself that you’re tangled into this mess. _And_ you look like you haven’t had a proper hug in forever.”

“Uh, look, I’m good. I don’t want to impose here—” 

And then Sera’s bladed whip lashed out to wind about his arm. He could have broken free, but he understood a “do not refuse” when he saw one. Allowing himself to be pulled in, he resigned himself to an awkward group hug, where Sera barely had her arm about his back, while she leaned in closer into Vergil, with his arm still about her shoulders. The Yamato was like a barrier between Dante and Vergil, and Dante could only give his brother a sheepish glance. _Not my fault I’m here._

Sera then mumbled: “I also don’t know what happened between you two, but I hope everything will work out. I hate seeing family members fight, to be honest. So if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. Of course, right now we all need to get out of Hell. So we’ll work together on that, right?”

“Right. Thought we kind of had an agreement on that already.” Dante chuckled. 

“Then we have a pact for now.” Sera jokes weakly. 

Thinking about it, Dante suddenly had an epiphany. “Actually...” And he placed a hand on her shoulder closest to him, with a friendly pat. “If you’re okay with it, I wouldn’t call it a pact.” He looked over at Vergil, who had been contemplative and somewhat awkward since Sera got into his space again, now with Dante included. “We’re going to need some work, but…” Yamato be damned, Dante reached out to wrap his arm around his brother’s shoulders, too, and pulled them all closer. “I think the better term here is… family.” 

He emphasized it with another pat to their shoulders, and a cheesy grin to boot. “Family sticks together. And true family…” His grip on Vergil’s shoulder tightened a bit. “Will follow each other to Hell and back.”

He meant it. As cheesy as it sounds, he meant it. And he hoped Vergil understood what he was trying to say. 

They both had a lot of regrets in their life up until now. 

Vergil was silent for a good moment, slowly closing his eyes in either thought or exasperation or both, before finally opening them to look at Dante: “20 years, and you are still as insufferably corny as you were before.” But there was this light smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Hey, and you still humored my stupid jokes with your deadpan responses back then, too! So you liked them! Besides, I’m not joking. Followed you here so that I can make sure you get out, or die trying. I’m not leaving you here again.”

“Hey!” Sera slapped him on his back at that. “No one’s dying down here.” She then looked over at Vergil: “And you’re going to be okay.”

He looked at her with such a shocked expression that Dante almost wanted to tease him for it. But Sera wasn’t done. Her tears were already drying, and she emphasized: “ _You’re going to be okay._ ”

“Would you still say that, if you knew everything I had done?” He asked her. “If you knew how much destruction I had wrought, in my pursuit for power?”

Sera looked over at Dante, and asked plainly: “Is the world still standing?”

He shrugged. “For the most part? Yeah. Don’t get me wrong… the total sum of damage caused by Verge was a whole city district, and then an entire metropolitan population. Do I condone it? No. Is there any way to fix it? Nothing short of time travel, and I ain’t mucking with that. It’s not that I don’t care, but I thought about it recently, and… I know a lot of the bad stuff that happened to us, that made us who we are, all go back to our blood ties. But I’m not going to apologize for existing, and I don’t want to exist without my twin. If I allow blame to fall on our mere existence, then where does the blame end?” He shook his head. “I’m still pretty pissed at our dad, but he was still…” He trailed off. 

“Mother loved him. And she loved us.” Vergil added, barely audible. 

The embrace that Sera was holding them in tightened, and she spoke up: “Then that’s good enough. The world isn’t going to end because of love. And love is going to continue in spite of hate. So let’s figure out what’s going on and get out of Hell.”

“Heh. Yeah. And Sera?” Dante wanted to say a few more things before they hit the road. “Nero’s going to love you. I promise. He’s a good kid. And Verge… she’s right. Things are going to get better.”

He wiggled himself out of the group hug, and turned around to continue in the direction they had been going. 

Behind him, he heard Sera whisper: “I think I’m beginning to understand something about your brother.”

Vergil only gave her a short hum in response. 

“He waited for his family for a long time, hasn’t he? For you?” 

Damn, was he really that transparent?

“...If I must admit one of the greatest mistakes in my life, it was for arguing with him and pushing him away after finding out he was still alive, when I had thought I had no family left since I was eight.”

“Well, you have your brother now. And Nero. And… there’s me, if you’ll have me.”

Dante told himself immediately that he should _not_ turn around to peak at an exchange that was not his business, but hot damn that was one hell of a line, and he’ll be damned if Vergil doesn’t say _something_ to that. ( _Please say yes? Come on please say yes to her, man…_ )

Ever impatient as the ticks of silence went by, he finally stole a glance back. 

_Oh._

And he made sure to keep walking ahead, pretending he saw nothing, with a grin on his face. With the way she was leaned in, it was clear that Sera was the one who wanted a kiss. But Vergil clearly didn’t pull away. So in Dante’s books, this meant all was well. 

Thinking they’ve had enough time to themselves already, he finally called out with a gesture forward, back still turned towards them: “Come on, don’t fall behind now! We’ve got some friends to save.”

* * *

Not long after Snow’s breakdown, Nico snuffed out the cigarette she had been working on when she was watching the two duke it out, and went back inside from the balcony. By the time she went down the stairs and went out the doors to the training grounds, Nero was still standing out in the field with Snow, patting the girl on her back as she sobbed into his T-shirt. 

Well, Nico couldn’t be more glad that she wasn’t in charge of Nero’s laundry. 

“Hey-o, knight-in-shining-armor. Why don’t we get Princess inside? It’s kinda nippy out here.” She beckoned. 

By the time everyone was back inside, Snow rubbed at her eyes, and pardoned herself to go wash her face. She made sure the two of them knew their way back to the guest hall, and told them she will be back soon with some things.

So this left Nico and Nero momentarily sitting at the bar. Nero once again set Red Queen against the bar counter, and collected his coat, Breakers, and gun, to set them on one of the barstools.

“So. Whatcha think?” She asked him.

“Gonna have to be more specific than that.” Nero poured himself a glass of water and sat down.

“About Snow, duh!”

“Got to know her for barely a few hours. I don’t know, Nico. I’m all sorts of baffled but I don’t think I should be? I guess the older members of my family don’t know the meaning of protection?”

“Pft.” She laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. “I’m asking about what you think about your cousin, ya doof. But I guess you’re not wrong. I don’t know about Vergil, but… you think Dante, you know, got around?”

Nero made a face. “That’s not something I want to think about, and frankly… Snow seems nice and all, but I’m not ready to deal with the implication of… ugh. Let’s just not, okay?”

Nico rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I was mostly joking. But really, I kinda wanted to know what you thought of her abilities.”

“She’s skilled with that sword, that’s for sure. Well trained. I’m not sure if the whole ice thing is her devil power or from her sword. Maybe a bit of both. She said she lost, but… to be frank, I bet that’s not her true limits. I think she doesn’t know her true limits. But at the same time…” Nero sighed. “I don’t know. No one was around to teach me shit. If she’s among the strongest of her family, maybe the lack of challenge is her limitation? But then I think about how I first unlocked my abilities, and I wonder if that kind of torture is worth it.”

Nico was thoughtful with him for a bit. Finally, she agreed: “Would be best if we could keep the sweet girl from going through that kind of hell, huh?”

“Yeah, that’s kind of what I was thinking. But this bloodline is cursed. So here’s hoping things pan out.”

Before the conversation could continue further, Snow showed up. She’d changed her clothes; the silk shirt was changed out to be one with straight buttons instead of the kind that went down the side, though it was still a red shirt. New pants, black ones this time, and taller black combat boots with heels that added to her already 183cm (6 foot) height. Instead of chains, she had two extra sets of white belts crossed about her hips now, and curiously, she had a long white coat on. The coat was two-tailed in the back, which made sense. Her tail, interestingly devoid of “thorns” now, swayed behind her. 

Nico didn’t see a need to hold back on questions, and asked: “Awe, that’s some sweet threads there, Princess. What’s it made of?”

Snow set a few small boxes and a laptop with accessories down on the counter when she got behind the bar, and looked at the sleeve of her coat, knowing that must be what Nico was referring to. “Thank you! It’s satin on the outside, since it’s a thicker material, and lined with silk on the inside. The silk is actually something Aegis makes, so it offers more protection than normal textiles, and takes to devil powers well, so it’s easy to clean or repair with a few cantrips. He makes this special silk for everyone…” She sighed wistfully and lightly rubbed the edge of her sleeve against her cheek. “It’s his way of trying to protect us, since he couldn’t leave the island.”

Nico felt intrigued, and wanted to ask for samples. But even she had the decency to not bother a girl about something like that when the rest of her family was missing. Snow then opened the two boxes she had brought with her, and began to assemble two smart phones with carrier cards and phone cases. 

“I’m, ah… sure that you can tell, but we’re pretty wealthy. Years of treasures collected that are worth money and all… though in the past few centuries, we are getting high-paying work from the underground networks who end up with trouble from deals they shouldn’t have taken, or simply need something taken care of before it got worse. It’s unfortunate, but those with secrets often make prime targets for demons. We reap some of the benefits by charging them exorbitant prices that they can afford. Most of that money has been going into recent technologies, as we try to keep up with the times while trying to not stand out.” Snow explained as she booted both phones up, checked the setup, fiddled with them, and handed one to Nero and one to Nico.

“I took a guess and gave you a blue one, Nero. And I grabbed a silver one for Nicoletta. Though if you want to change the phone case I can go find a different one later. But here, this way you aren’t without communication. There’s also international calling. So use it for what you need. It has GPS tracking, by the way... but we can... get to the details on my problem in a moment."

“Wow, uh… this is great, Snow. Not a lot of clients are so accommodating when they want our help.” Nero turned the phone about in his hands nervously.

Snow could only smile. “I know, right? Typically they just give us a job and tell us to get it done. No other help whatsoever.”

“Pretty fancy stuff. I know you’re doing everything you can so that we can find your family, so we’ll pull all the stops we can, too.” Nico nodded. 

“Hey, uh…” Nero stands up from the bar. “Since you said it has international calling… if you don’t mind, I’m gonna make a call home.”

“Please do. I don’t want to keep you from your family.” Snow nodded. 

“Yeah go call your girl, lover boy.” Nico feigned shooing him away. “Go check up on her and the kiddos.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll tell them you said hi.” Nero rolled his eyes and excused himself from the bar and room altogether, heading out to the hall to make his call. 

Snow poured herself some water, and the two women remained in brief silence as she drank from her glass. Nico gave her a good look over. Geez, this girl was likely Dante’s daughter? Well, she’s got the height, that’s for sure. Yeah sure the white hair and blue eyes thing was telling but…

Nico enjoyed Nero’s company; he was brash and fun to tease but also a good friend. It didn’t take much to see that he’s the loyal and giving sort, too. And now she was very intrigued over what kind of person Snow was.

Some time ago, Nico had asked Nero what kind of person Dante was. If he was a good person. And through the trickle of stories she’s heard, and from her brief meeting with him, Nico had to say… Dante was a good guy, with a lot of issues that weren’t her business. He was definitely a big doofus, just like Nero said. Though in Nero’s words, it was more like “idiot old man” and “hard-headed pain in the ass” and the likes. Nico could tell that stubbornness ran in their family, just shown in different ways. But the Legendary Devil Hunter was worth the admiration. 

“Nicoletta?”

“What up, Princess?”

“It’s not really my business, but does Nero have a family of his own?”

“Pft. I suppose you could say that? He’s got a girlfriend. Kyrie. And they foster three orphans. You could call them family. He sure is taking a long while to tie the knot with his girl, that’s for sure.”

Nico watched as Snow looked down at her glass of water and smiled. “That sounds wonderful. I hope he continues to have a wonderful future with her.”

Well, that’s cute. “What about you, Princess? Tell me a bit about yourself?”

Snow was a bit thoughtful at this. “I, uh… what do you want to know? I think right now you know more about me than I know about you.” She laughed. 

“True. Alright. Let’s do this. What’s something you wanna know about good ol’ me, first?”

“Okay… well, what are your hobbies, then?”

That was such a cliche icebreaker. But hey she’ll be happy to tell her! “Anything and everything engineering! From gunsmithing to demonic weapons crafting! The results are all my works of art. My genius is what backs Nero up in his hunts. You saw these…” She reached over and grabbed Nero’s Devil Breakers magazine. “Nero was without an arm for a whole month. But with my genius and the demon parts he brought me, I fixed him up some new arms.”

“These are very fascinating. Phoenix, that’s one of my cousins, would love to be able to meet you. He’s also into engineering, and programming. But he’s…” She twisted her braid between her fingers. “He doesn’t like fighting. He would rather make tools to help people in non-violent manners. Prosthetics are high on his list of goals, which is admirable.” She examined a few of the Breakers, before asking: “What’s the story behind Nero’s sword? He said you weren’t the one that made it.”

That story came with a small can of worms, but Nico supposed it was fair to give a bit, since Snow told them a bit about her. “Right, so, the Red Queen…” She grabbed the hefty blade and set it across the counter. “It’s a modified version of something my daddy designed. We, uh, we don’t talk about him. I mean, we do, but there’s no point. It’s in the past. Let’s just say my biological daddy wasn’t a super great guy and leave it at that?”

Snow nodded. “I understand. You can just… tell me about the Red Queen, then.” She smiled.

So Nico pointed at the engine parts, and told Snow about the injection ports, and how Nero had the limiters taken off so the entire blade flamed up as a result. “If Nero didn’t have devil’s blood in his veins, he wouldn’t have been able to handle it. He said the Order-- that’s a long story, he was a knight before things went to shit. The Order made the adjustments for him at his request.” Nico could see how intrigued Snow was by the blade, just as she was by the Breakers. Maybe the girl had a vested interest in engineered marvels? So she reached over and grabbed Blue Rose. 

“Nero’s no proper engineer but he’s got a good head on his shoulders. The Order didn’t like guns, but he didn’t give a damn. Cobbled himself parts and special materials to make himself this gun…”

Snow’s eyes lit up. “A firearm? One that… he would have to charge it with power for it to work against demons. But normal guns break from that sort of strain. He made this himself?”

“Yep. Put a lot of care into it. I helped him refine it later, but even an expert gunsmith like myself could tell this was his baby. And I can respect that. I could make him something entirely new, but that would be a bit rude to this gun here. Blue Rose is a pretty solid piece of work.” Nico observed Snow carefully inspecting the gun. The girl knew how to properly and safely handle one, that’s for sure. So she asked: “You got a firearm or two of your own, Princess?”

She set Blue Rose down while answering: "Permanent ones? No. I take guns with me as a precaution, but when I actually end up using them... well, I think you know what happens when you run that kind of power through a normal gun. There are plenty of bladed weaponsmiths, but..." 

The look Snow gave her was very telling: _not a whole lotta artisans like you._

Nico mulled it over. Ebony and Ivory were Grandma Nell's magnum opus. Story had it, she created them as a sort of self-challenge, in response to one Tony Redgrave who broke every single previous piece of firearm he got from her. (There were a few very cute notes of complaints scrawled into the margins of the blueprints Nico has found, detailing things Nell has noted from the damaged weapons “Tony” had brought back.) They were a work of art that Nico aspired towards, even to surpass them...

She leaned in, a grin on her face: "You know Dante's got a pair of awesome semi-automatics?"

The way Snow cast her gaze down shyly as she set Blue Rose down and then fiddled with her thumbs was something cute. "I... looked into some stuff about him, yes. It appears he has a signature style of red coat, longsword, and a dual-firearms kind of style."

“Had to do some research on an object of curiosity?” Nico grinned. 

“It’s… he’s the Legendary Devil Hunter.” She blushed. “It’s like… well… nevermind.” 

Nico almost wanted to tease Snow. There was nothing embarrassing about her curiosity. But she supposed it was like how she was with Nell. When you admire someone, someone who was family… it can be like that. 

Maybe they all inherently aspire to live up to whom they admire, too. 

A thought crossed her mind...

"You got any firearms you like using?" 

The way that Snow posed while she was in thought kind of tickled Nico. The girl had her arms crossed, head tilted, and the tip of her tail tapping her chin. "It's a little hard to pick favorites when I break them every use, but...it goes without saying that handguns are easier to pick up and use in the middle of a fight. I've never been picky about how much kick or recoil there is, since that wouldn't matter in the long run after it goes through my firepower treatment." 

Glancing back over at the Blue Rose, she continued: "I can't say revolvers are my favorite. Most of what we have sitting around are semi-automatic pistols. The models I end up with are just from an assorted collection of stuff we pick up from our underground associates. Never checked what all the models were, but if I were to be picky, I do have a gun I like to practice my aim with. It’s a 8045 Beretta Cougar…”

Nico took mental note of everything she was saying, and Snow then trailed off, staring at Nico with a soft realization. 

So Nico grinned and leaned in to ask: “Did you know my grandma Nell made Dante’s Ebony and Ivory? Finest guns of the .45 Art Works. And I want to surpass that. Maybe I have, maybe I haven’t. It’s hard to say, when I’ve made so many other things that aren’t just guns.” She shrugged. “I’ve made guns for plenty of other people before. Some of them are some crazy hunters. But making guns that can kill something versus making guns that won’t break on the user? Two different things. Now, I’ve gotten a quick look at Dante’s firearms before… he’s taken care of my grandmother’s legacy well. Even if I surpass that, it’s the same thing with Blue Rose: I can’t replace those. And I don’t make stuff for collectors to let them collect dust.”

“Nicoletta, I can’t possibly be a good candidate for this. I’m sure there are better--”

“What, you think you’re not good enough to use my genius creations? Don’t undersell yourself.” She settled herself back into her seat, and continued: “Let’s look at the undeniable facts. You’re part-devil. You use guns on occasion and you break them upon usage. I see a prime opportunity here to answer a challenge. So let me turn around and ask you this, Princess: those ice powers of yours part of your own ability, or is it that fancy katana of yours? Because I betcha I can not only make something that can withstand your power, but also compliment what you can already do.”

Seeing that she didn't have room to argue back, Snow looked thoughtful for a bit, before answering while bringing one hand up to brush her fingertips against the snowflake hairpin: "It's my own ability, but the Kirayuki bolsters it." 

Nico thought about it for a second, before laughing: "Girl, your sword is called ‘killer snow’?" 

"Hey now! 12-year-old me thought it was a great name for a cool katana, and 21-year-old me still thinks so! Also, it was supposed to be ‘sparkling snow,’ but I never said I spoke Japanese." The answer was given with such a cocksure attitude that Nico wondered where all that shyness went. 

"Well, excuse me, Princess!"

"Hah!" Snow must have gotten that reference, because she laughed. "You know, I'm not opposed to you calling me Princess, but please don't make any Frozen jokes at me. I haven't heard the end of it from some of my cousins, since.”

“Psh, nah, you’re not cold enough to be an ice queen. Besides, you seem pretty comfortable with your special abilities.” 

Snow shrugged, and then seemed to debilitate for a moment before asking: “If I’m not cold, then would you say I’m... hot?”

Nico raised an eyebrow above the rim of her glasses, but still swept her gaze up and down Snow to pass judgement. From behind the counter, she could only see most of her top half, though she already knew the hunter had long legs that no doubt had muscle to them, as Nico could already tell from the sparring she witnessed that Snow was all lean muscle. She had quite a bit of chest, too, that was probably restrained behind a sports bra. Nice hips. Nice body. Does that make a woman hot? Sure it can. Snow’s eye shape was something different from the sharp look that the men of the Sparda line had. Round shaped, and with the right expression, doll-like. But then, when she’s not being nervous and actually having a conversation comfortably (or even boldly,) there was the way the corners of her lips pulled into a smile, and how her eyes warmed over, where Nico saw a familiar playfulness. 

She may have only met Dante briefly and spoke to him twice, but she’d like to say she’s pretty good at picking out certain traits that stand out in a judge of character. 

Plus, she has heard a few stories, from the two ladies that knew him best. 

If she wasn’t certain then, she thinks she can be certain now. Snow got more than just looks from her daddy. 

So how was a girl going to respond to hot stuff like this?

“Well, Princess… don’t be getting ahead of yourself. I think it’s standard procedure here to tell you your ego is showing.”

Snow feigned shock, and then pouted. “Standard procedure? So it’s ‘shoot down on sight,’ huh?” 

Nico bellowed out laughter. “You’re a hoot when you’re not being all nervous, Princess. So, what do you say? Probably gonna take some trial and error, but wanna partner up for my new pet project?”

All the talking must have gotten the girl to warm up to her better, because she wasn’t as uncertain about the offer anymore. “Well, Nicoletta, your offer is a unique opportunity that would be a shame to pass up. And it's something sure to make some of my family members envious..." She sounded rightfully wistful. 

"Don't worry. Nero will help you get your family back. And then later you can wow them with some amazing new gear made by yours truly. And you can just call me Nico." She extended a hand, as per courtesy of the start of business agreements. 

When Snow returned the handshake, she said: "Thank you. I haven't really been able to think positive for a while now... And..." She hummed in thought. "But I rather like the way 'Nicoletta' rolls off my tongue."

 _Waaaait a minute. Is she seriously trying to flirt with me?_ "Right. Why don't we talk a bit more about you and guns while we wait for Nero to get back. Then you can tell us more about what's up with those attacks on your family."

_Focus a bit more on designing your new project using the Beretta as a design start, and not on the stray thought on how you might be interested in Dante’s daughter… that he totally doesn’t know about._

Talk about awkward. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The Yamato’s design has certainly had a big change in 5, but I’ve decided that the more “proper” construction of the sword is what it was meant to be all along, and so I chose to only address the sageo as the thing that was changed out.  
> \- I’m pretty much treating Dante and Vergil’s situations similar to that of the relationship between humans and the Greek gods. The common man can do little against the machinations of the gods, who are no less petty than the mortals they share the world with. And the children of said gods and mortals seldom exist without causing some form of ripple among mortals, both good and bad. I’ve been agonizing over the moral conundrum of the destruction that followed in the wake of Vergil’s quest for power, and really, it gets me nowhere. I just want to see a happy family. So I’m going to focus on that instead. :)  
> \- I keep using imperial measurements instead of metric… a poor habit I got into from living in America again. With the setting they are in, they should be using metric, and I do apologize for any confusion. When I have time I might try to go back to the previous chapters and this one to make the measurements a bit friendlier to both sides of the world.  
> \- Would I have gone wrong with just sticking with her naming a Colt as Snow’s preferred firearm? Probably not. So why the 8045 Cougar specifically? Sentimental reasons. Father had two of those and taught me how to shoot with them. Yep. That's it. I’m… _sticking to my guns._  
>  \- So originally I was going to have Nico say something that comes off as flirting at Snow. But then it went the other way around… and no, Snow’s not supposed to be good at it. _How can she be?_  
>  \- Unlike some of the other OCs in this fic, Snow as a character is currently all up in the air for development. I think my problem is that I started off writing her in her panicked state, so now I'm not sure where her "baseline" is... and I hope by the time I figure that out, her character would still be solid. Meanwhile, I know exactly what I'm doing with Sera and... Queenie. (Roy and Evan need no further thought. I've been writing them for other stuff for years, haha.)


	6. Unconditional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of information to sort through. A LOT. Nero's already making his own head spin with his thoughts, and there was still stuff that Snow needed to tell them. 
> 
> Meanwhile, Dante is doing his best impression of a curious puppy, peppering Sera with questions. But it wasn't entirely a bad thing... Vergil had to admit, he didn't know everything about Sera, either, and this was a good way to pick up some information that he had once thought of as not-important. 
> 
> Or, learn about important information, regardless. Because Sera still had one last important memory to recall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Slight warning: this is DMC, so blood is involved, and there’s allusion to gore. It’s not in graphic detail, but there is no mistake to what kind of wound it is. Bottom line is, when someone gets _hurt_ hurt, they get HURT. Mature rating applies here.

“Oh, the unraveling of time!  
How it will never look the same  
Depending on the point you stand in.

The past is in sepia,  
The present in colour,  
And the future, in uncertain grey.

What once was tragic  
May still lead to joy;  
Such, is the comedy of life.

For the worth of living   
Is to transform our worries  
Into yet another coloured present.”

“Impressive, Angel. Another one of your originals?”

“It’s a small hobby of mine, yes. I think this one came out more dramatic than I intended.”

“Hey, nothing wrong with being dramatic. You’ll fit right in with the rest of us.”

“Is that meant to bring me comfort?” Seraphina blinked at Dante, then turned to face Vergil: “Should I take comfort or offense to that?”

“Coming from Dante, you could take offense and I wouldn’t think less of you for it.”

* * *

It was afternoon in Fortuna when Kyrie heard the phone ring. The caller ID showed an unfamiliar number but that didn’t stop her from answering: “Eleison residence, this is Kyrie speaking!”

“Kyrie!”

Nero’s voice came through loud and clear, and her heart sang no matter how many times she heard him say her name. He sounded happy. 

“Nero! You sound well! Is everything turning out okay with your work?”

“Well, ‘okay’ is debatable. Things got a little more complicated but maybe also not as complicated. We haven’t actually made any progress into the saving people part, yet, but…” 

Kyrie can hear how Nero was trying to find words, and could imagine him scratching the back of his head while he tried to explain things. 

“We haven’t really fought anything or seen any fires yet, and surprises are already rolling in. Uh, listen to this Kyrie… _Snow’s my cousin._ ”

Now, when Nero had first called her about family, months ago, she was working under the same assumptions he already had, and was simply being delivered a solid confirmation with a plot twist. 

But now, Kyrie tried to connect the dots on the matter, but without having seen Snow, and thinking back to the papers she and Nero were looking at prior, she gasped, and asked: “Nero, did you find your mother’s family?”

“My… oh, no. No, sadly not.” He sounded a little disappointed in having to give that answer, and she felt her heart ache for him. But then, this means…

Nero’s voice continued through the phone: “She’s, uh. We’re all pretty positive she’s Dante’s.”

Tapping her finger to her lips, she thought over it. It wasn’t impossible. It really wasn’t impossible at all. This was by and large a good thing, right? Of course, she could only imagine, now that she understood a bit more of Dante’s history, that the Legendary Devil Hunter probably knew nothing of this girl. Which was a pity. Even Kyrie felt a pang of _disappointment_ in him. But there was something more on her mind: “Nero, _does she know_?”

“Yeah. Actually, she’s pretty certain of it. It’s why she was asking for him. Shame, she got me instead. But… I don’t know, maybe this way is better. Since, you know…” He sighed. “Dante was pretty terrible about telling me anything. Though I’d like to see him try to avoid _this_ particular problem.”

Kyrie could feel the bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. But, by and large, she had faith that things will turn out okay. “Maybe, after everything that’s happened, he’ll be able to handle this situation better. He has you to guide him through, after all.”

Nero chuckled. “Yeah. He might not really need my guidance, though. Snow seems to handle herself pretty well, and unlike me, she grew up pretty stable. Now we just gotta hope the rest of her family’s all okay. There’s hope, though, that whatever foe we’re dealing with has more use of them alive than dead. Which means we can rescue them. Oh, should probably tell you that other thing. There’s a hell gate here. A hidden one, below her property.”

She felt a small chill up her back. “A hell gate, Nero?”

“Yeah. Guess, I don’t know, Sparda left some friends on an island to… watch over a gate. Makes me kind of think now…”

Nero couldn’t see the way she tilted her head, pressing the phone to her ear with just a bit more pressure, wanting to make sure she didn’t miss a word of this conversation. Whenever he needed her, she would always lend an ear to him. 

“We know there are more gates out there. Most of them kind of just… hidden under crumbled ruins. But then we have this. Some demon called Aegis is supposed to be guarding this gate. And I wondered a bit about the Order. But you know me, I never paid much attention to the scripture studies or anything. But do you think maybe, when Sparda came to this island, he set up all of this for a reason?”

Kyrie thought back. In terms of all the classes and sermons, most of them were praises for Sparda’s awakening to Justice. There was a lot of song and story about how he was the Saviour of humanity, and how he was an example to hold on to, in some way. People were taught to live in a manner that continued the example of what made The Saviour find humanity worth saving, but now she learned that those standards were largely subjective. 

No, perhaps she always knew, deep down, that the truth was so. 

Still, if there were a reason for the Order’s existence...There were the Order’s Holy Knights, who strove to practice the art of the sword… who were supposed to uphold justice. She could understand where Nero was going, as he continued:

“I don’t know if Sparda intended to become an object of worship. But maybe, a lot of what the Order held on to is still genuine? That the order itself was meant to be… actually be a line of defense?”

Kyrie smiled, even if he couldn’t see it. “It would be a little hard to find answers to those questions, now. But everything starts somewhere. Sadly, we wouldn’t really have anyone to ask about that. But…” She could imagine it, really. Even if she had lost faith in the people who ran the order, it was a little hard to lose complete faith in something she had treated as a ray of positivity for so long in her life: “I think it’s a nice thought. That Fortuna, and the Order, were meant to be a legacy of trust from Sparda. But that makes the present all the more bitter, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. It does make that thought kind of sad, huh? Sorry, I guess I’m getting sappy. It’s just been one bombshell after another. Found out my dad’s an asshole. Dante’s my uncle. I’m the grandson of Sparda? And out here, I have a cousin and a bunch of extended family. It’s great! Yeah, great.” He sighed. “But then I feel like… This is all too much. I’m… What do I do with all this family, Kyrie? Growing up, all I had was you, and Credo, and… and your parents. And that was enough. Even through all that loss, it was enough.”

She felt a pang of unfairness, at how little Nero would settle for. “It’s okay, Nero. It’s okay, to be overwhelmed. But it’s also okay to discover you have more than you thought.”

“I…”

“I would love to be able to meet them someday, Nero.” It was her way of telling him that she’s sure it will turn out okay. 

He chuckled. “Yeah. That would be cool, wouldn’t it? Actually, forgot to tell you, but if everything turns out well… there’s possibly a ticket back from hell with Dante and Vergil’s names written on it. But first, it’s time to dip into the details about Snow’s case.”

“You‘re a hard worker. Don’t forget to take care of yourself.”

“I won’t. I love you. Miss you already. Oh, Nico said hi, to you and the kids.”

“I’ll let them know. Love you, too. Be safe, Nero. Both of you.” 

* * *

When Nero got off the phone and made his way down the hall to step back into the guest room again, Nico and Snow were talking about the details of her ice abilities in specific:

“I really don’t know what more I can tell you. It took practice and concentration, but maybe some things are just innate? Roy told me that Aegis had the sword commissioned for me from Japan not long after I was born, but the blade remained sealed until I was ready to receive it. It didn’t gain its properties until I attuned it. But, how, uh, how do you usually extract demonic properties for your…”

“Oh, samples, tests, all that jazz. It’s all in my genius. A lot of alchemy is actually involved, but modern day science is really helping in that department, too. Still, I haven’t been able to get that blood sample out of Nero, yet.”

“What!”

Nero caught how Snow yelped and… she brought her tail about her as part of her hugging her arms about her own body; hugging her tail, too, in fact. 

“Hey, don’t scare her!” Nero pointed accusingly at Nico with a lopsided grin as he walked up towards the bar they were at. “She’s never asked me for blood samples. Yet. Don’t get her started.”

Nico scoffed. "Relax. Sure, I'm curious, but you're my best friend. Aint gonna start prodding an' poking at ya unless you start volunteering. Same goes to you, Princess. I'm a genius, but not a mad one."

"Besides, you're going to need some special needles. As I got older, the orphanage gave up trying to give me shots or taking blood tests. Had to dig a broken needle out of my arm once."

Snow looked like she was about to say something, but then re-thought about it, and finally said: "Well, at least you didn't need those shots. People like us aren't susceptible to normal human diseases, after all. And thankfully we aren't the sort that have... well, allergies, for lack of a better term."

Nico laughed. “Hah! Guess now that I think about it, things like ‘weakness to sunlight’ is like a deadly allergy to some demons, huh? And there’s plenty of demons that keep away from holy water, and a number of other things. But no singular thing across the board keeps ‘em all away.”

“Sometimes that’s what warding is like. The varieties of demons that exist are just too many. Just like the variety of humans there is. Everyone is different.” Snow mused out loud. “There’s simply no single ward out there that will ward against everything. Layer too many spells or wards at once and it’ll explode in your face, instead.” She sighed.

This reminded Nero of something: “Speaking of wards, I think I felt two sets of those out about the property.”

“Yeah. They work against most small things affiliated with Hell. Doesn’t always keep them out, but it’s something. They’re loose wards, since they have to allow my family in and out. Which, now that I think about it, you probably wouldn’t have had a great time if you… if we…” She pointed at him, and then herself, “Weren’t related.” 

She then thought about it a little. “Actually, maybe it's not me. Maybe it's Sparda. Those wards are old." She shrugged. "But yeah, we have those wards. And some other talismans around. And some plants. That's what the wisteria's for. And… well, no matter how high you build your walls, nothing is perfectly impenetrable.”

As Nero sat down beside Nico, she responded: “They got through?”

“We actually knew they were able to get through since they breached the wards at the shop, and at the apartments. We don’t all spend the night here at the manor.” Snow then realized she needed to explain that: “Some of us have day jobs. Or lives. My younger cousins still go to school. This island is a bit far, after all. It’s, um…” She shook her head. “I don’t want to get into a whole story about this family’s history. Let’s start at the important part.”

This time, Snow brought her laptop between them on the counter. But she didn’t open it. “I actually compiled a chunk of the data into here, so you can take a look at it later, to refresh your memory. But here’s the gist of it…

“Two months ago, there was this…” She gestured with both hands in the air, somewhat distraught as she began to recount her details: “Loud, thunderous noise, from _downstairs_. That’s where the bloody gate is. Every few centuries, it happens, apparently. Something tries to knock on the door and come through. Lance--” She paused. 

“Oh, Lance is what Aegis goes by for an English name. I’ll try to stay consistent. Aegis usually beats up whatever comes through, and sends them back. Well, that’s what we’re told. Last time that happened was probably four centuries ago? Not the point. Anyway, with that kind of commotion, we all of course would go check on things, and…”

Nero remembered, and recounted for her: “You said he was gone, and there were only chains left.”

“Yep.” She tapped a finger against the side of her laptop for a bit, and then continued: “So, um, that, of course, was concerning. So, Uncle Roy and Uncle Evan spent the following week checking things out, and on day seven… Phoenix, the eldest of my cousins, missed his check-in from a job.”

Both Nero and Nico could only nod to this information and wait for her to continue. They already knew she had a lot of family, so this was going to be a long list. 

“So, here’s the thing… Phoenix very rarely takes jobs. But he does during summer break. He’s just as highly trained. He had to be. Eldest son and all--”

“Wait, wait wait wait.” Nico interrupted, waving her hands in front of her for signalling pause. “You were telling me about Phoenix earlier. You said he didn’t like to fight.”

“Doesn't like to.” Snow smiled, almost a little bitterly. “Doesn’t mean he won’t. I’m not going to spill my favorite cousin’s secrets--”

At that, Nico nudged Nero with her elbow: “Hear that, looks like you’re gonna have to work to be number one.”

“Not everything’s a competition, Nico.” Nero hissed. 

“Pft. Coulda fooled me. From the stories Lady and Trish told us...”

Hearing that, Snow stifled a laugh, and said: “Devil instinct. Takes a lot of discipline, and sometimes disciplining, to keep in control. Not a bad thing, so long as we don’t get too extreme.”

“You’re telling me your family doesn’t try to stab each other with swords over an argument?” Nero found this half-amusing and half-relieving. He knew next to nothing about being part-devil; Dante had little to really offer on “discipline” in that department. 

Snow shrugged. “It happens. Surefire way for Aegis to confiscate your weapons and ground you when you go too far. We’re all children to him. His nestlings. And I’ve seen my uncles get time-outs for the occasional stabbing, too. Doesn’t matter if you’re 10 or 40.”

Suddenly, Nico burst out laughing. 

“Nico, what’s so funny, now?” Nero looked at her. 

“I’m just… sorry, partner, but… thinking ‘bout Dante and Vergil. Think if Sparda were around, he’d, you know…” She burst out laughing again. “HA-HAHAHA! Sorry, sorry Princess. We got off track. Just let me… phew. Let’s uh… we’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

“It’s okay. Story’s easier to remember when it’s not all dry facts. But, right. Phoenix. He took a job on a Friday. Missed his check-in the next day. So, cue panic scenario number one.

“So, we spent a couple of days searching. No luck. GPS was only so much help when the signals just disappeared at the last place there appeared to have been a fight. There was blood. No body, no phone… weapon wasn’t found, either. So, there was hope. And then Friday rolls around, and my youngest cousin disappears.”

At that, Snow took a deep breath. Nero had to ask: “When you say youngest… how old were they?”

“He’s turning twelve in a handful of days, actually.”

“Shit.” Nero cursed under his breath and scratched his head. Kids. Vulnerable members of her family. He felt a flash of anger and fear. This happened almost _two months ago_. 

“Robin was hardly separable from Jet. That’s the second youngest. But they had different summer activities, just in the same building. We found out the evening-of, from Jet, crying through the phone that Robin had disappeared from the school grounds. There was no eye-catching incident. It was like he just vanished. And, once again, GPS signals vanished from school grounds, and nothing was to be found.”

“Okay. Definitely spooky. But continue.” Nico had her ‘I’m thinking’ face on.

“Next Friday. Rowan, the fourth-daughter of the family, if you count me as the eldest daughter-- By the way, I’m not expecting you to keep track of who is who, because that information isn’t important right now. Rowan had been distraught and searching desperately for clues since Robin’s disappearance, and she didn’t return home that night. That was the last straw for Uncle Roy. The next day, he took the Aegis Shield and opened the gate for a trip to Hell. We didn’t have any other explanation as to why the GPS signals would disappear like that. There was no destroyed phone to be found.”

“He thinks they were pulled into Hell. Like Aegis.” Nero followed. 

“Seemed logical.” Nico nodded. “I am noticing that 'Friday' has popped up every time. These incidents are happening at seven day intervals.”

“Yes. They are. Not long after Roy went through the gates, we realized this pattern. My mother and my remaining uncle tried to decide how to proceed from there, and I… behind my mother’s back, I decided to place a call to Devil May Cry.”

“You called before?” Nero was somewhat startled. They could have known about this before it got this bad?

“Tried to. A woman answered the phone and said Dante was away. Does he have other hunters working with him, other than you? I wasn’t sure who she was, or if I could trust her when she offered to help if it were a job. So I ended the call with her.”

Nero made a tsk sound at that revelation. “Yeah, that was probably Trish or Lady, two of Dante’s friends. They work for themselves, though. They didn’t say anything to me about the call so they must have treated your call like another pointless one. Shit.”

“Don’t…” Snow immediately reached out over the counter, and briefly found his hand to give it a light squeeze. Nero felt the gesture to be foreign but not entirely bad. Most people were wary of touching him. But, he supposed family was different, wasn’t it? “Don’t get hung up on what could have been. I’ve been through that already.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay, so, you figured out things were happening every seven days. Then what?”

“Cycle continued, with compounding mysteries. With his brother and sister missing, Jet didn’t go to his meet that Friday. But as a family, we were still trying to keep up a sense of normalcy. Couldn’t really put out a police report when the disappearances could involve demons. So, my aunt left the apartment for all of twenty minutes to get something for lunch, and came back to an empty apartment."

"Which was warded." Nico noted.

"Yes. Except the wards weren't broken. Or even tampered with. The only reason we didn't think he left on his own was because part of the living room was torn up."

"And of course, no trackable GPS signal.”

“Actually, Jet’s phone wasn’t on his person when he was taken. But that still gives us nothing.”

So that was four missing family members and one missing Devil already. Plus one Underworld Spelunker. "These wards are supposed to only let in your family members?"

"For the most part, but wards are never perfect. The pattern, of course, continues. The short version of this story is, every Friday, something finds a perfect opportunity to take someone else. Well, not always perfect, because a bit more information comes to light with every abduction. So, here's the crux of the problem:

"Every week, they are taking one of our family members so easily because they are enthralling them."

"So, like... mind-control?" Nero asked. 

"Enthrallment is something a little specific, but..."

Nero wasn't entirely sure what differences there would be. It wasn't like he did extensive research on this stuff. But Nico asked: "You're talking about a state of, uh... hypnotism-like thing where your will is more malleable because something inside you agreed to it, right? The thing that vampires or fairies do? Wait, are vampires and fairies real?"

"Vampires? Yes. And yes, werewolves, too. As for fairies... try not to get into an argument with them about whether they are fairies or devils. Because that's what we are." Snow pointed at herself. "Well, the rest of my family. It's a big grey area. We're not everything people say devils or fairies are. But that's besides the point. When you belong to a court already... in our case, the Hive, you shouldn't be susceptible to enthrallment."

The obvious question to ask, Nero thought, was: "Why not?"

"Because, to be part of the Hive, you fall under the thrall of hierarchy. We are... claimed, so to speak. Aegis is the Hive King. Our contracts or our blood ties with him, rank us as Generals. But, there is one being above Aegis, in the Hive."

Ever quick on the pickup, Nico figured out through context: "It's gotta be The Queen."

"Bingo, Nicoletta." Snow snapped her fingers and pointed at Nico. "The Hive Queen is the Queen Mother. And, it appears she's..."

"Taking back what's hers." Nero filled out the rest. The situation was sounding pretty dreadful. 

“Yep. There’s still a lot unanswered, though. Cerentine is by no means a malicious or jealous queen. Also, if she really wanted all of us that badly, when Crystal and Lilliana were together, they were both enthralled, but only one was taken per abduction. There’s also the matter of how she got through the gate in the first place. She might have the ability to match the signature of the key, and sure, Aegis is hers by blood. But she would still need—”

“The blood of Sparda.” Nero and Nico realized. 

“Shit, Snow, what was the date all of this started?” Nero immediately asked. 

"Mid-July."

"Fuck." Nero cursed. “Dante and Vergil have been down there since mid-June.”

“More than that, Princess.” Nico stood up and reached into her pockets for her cigarettes. “But isn’t tomorrow… well, today, since it’s past midnight, Friday?”

* * *

The trek through the Underworld towards their destination had been largely boring so far. Vergil spoke little, but Sera expected that. He had never been very conversational. It was a shame, because she very much liked the sound of his voice. He read one of the things she had written, once, out loud. (And she thought to herself, that day, how unfair it was, that she could not keep him. She knew that in reality, he could not suffer to remain in Fortuna in the long term. Not with Fortuna being the way it was, and not with her being who she was. And not with her increasing suspicions of his inhuman nature, however beautiful it was to her.)

Meanwhile, this line of thought was drawn up because, compared to Vergil, Dante was very conversational. So far, he had asked her all sorts of things, from what kind of food she liked, to what she liked to do for fun, to her favorite colour. Mundane and not very invasive questions, and she always learnt a bit more about Dante in return. Not that she asked, but the conversation went something like this:

“So, bet you miss food, after being trapped down here for so long. First thing you do when we get back, what do you plan on scarfing down?”

“You know what? I _do_ miss food. But I have a feeling if I went right into eating after having nothing but demon blood for two decades, that’s just going to shock my system.” Her mother was a doctor, after all. She had some basic health knowledge that she’s pretty sure still applies, even when said diet was on some inhuman substance that probably shouldn’t grace any normal person’s stomach.

“Okay, then what do you eventually want to eat, first?”

“I guess I could really go for a nice and simple pasta, honestly. The most basic of things, but gosh that sounds so good right now…”

“Hey, that sounds great! I could go for a nice pizza or two. No olives, of course.”

At that, Vergil actually said: “Dante, is there anything you ever eat that isn’t pizza?”

“Yeah, sure. Strawberry sundaes.”

Sera wasn’t sure how to take that banter. She couldn’t tell if Dante were being serious, or if even Vergil’s question was serious. But at the same time, Dante did seem like the kind of person who would be content living his whole life on pizza. 

Thankfully, it seemed she wasn’t expected to pick up the conversation and carry it. Dante did that for her: “Well, seems you like to write poetry. Got any other interesting hobbies?”

If it weren’t for the fact that she, honest to The Saviour (oh no this was going to get weird), trusted Dante, she would have found the interest vexing and maybe a bit creepy. But instead, she felt like she was… entertaining a child. 

Or a little brother. (Oh _by The Saviour_ , wait a moment… he kind of could be her little brother, could he?)

“When I wasn’t training, I would read a novel or something here and there. Oftentimes, I liked to write, instead.”

“Huh. You like to write. He likes to read. That’s a nice match.” Dante said so nonchalantly. Vergil didn’t make any response to that, but Sera suddenly felt one degree warmer, like the feeling you get when someone accuses you of having a crush on someone. 

_What the ever-loving…?_ She always had thick skin. She had to, having dealt with years of people looking down on her, no thanks to the rumors and lies her biological grandfather spread about her parents and her. She had to deal through much torment and teasing, and was rarely ever properly admired. 

“I don’t… I don’t write interesting theologies or history analysis books. Or any actual books, for that matter…” She corrected herself. 

“What. Was that all he read around you?” 

“Dante, that’s none of your business.” Vergil cut in with a hint of exasperation.

Sera jumped on that moment to also say: “What I write is my own business.”

Somehow, this only made Dante smile more, despite him not following up on the subject. Sera wasn’t certain if she liked that or not. 

“Alright, alright. Hey, just want to break the silences a bit. This journey has been boring. Vergil isn’t the most interesting conversational partner--”

“I don’t indulge in your conversation because you insist on being meddlesome and even irksome most of the time, little brother.” Again, the hint of exasperation in Vergil’s tone came through, and Sera found it oddly warm. She was used to him being impassively cold, which was never something she minded, but this was a nice touch, too.

“I’ll indulge in your insatiable curiosity so long as you respect it when I don’t want to give you an answer.” Sera finally told Dante, using one of her “don’t mess with me” tones that she often used on troublesome people wanting to ask specific questions to get a rise out of her. She wanted to see how Dante would react to that kind of message. 

He grinned and responded: “Sure thing, Angel. Got a favorite colour?”

“Gold. Next one?” She’ll play this game. 

“Fancy. Favorite flower?”

It’s like he’s just going down a list of children’s icebreaker questions. Good heavens… “Roses.”

“A classic! Roses are probably the most passionate of flowers.” 

“...I like them because they are pretty _and_ they have thorns.” Someone once gave her a de-thorned rose. That same night, they complained about her weapons being something she couldn’t take off. Roses had a special meaning to her now. And she dumped the guy.

“Interesting. Okay, favorite places to visit?”

“The roofs of tall buildings. Used to get in trouble for it. Even after becoming a Knight, I didn’t stop. But it gave me the best vantage point, and climbing was less difficult after I got these." She motioned with her hand, indicating at the gauntlets-- her weapons.

Dante now had an actual curious expression: "Say, what's the story behind those? Were those from the Order?"

"Oh, these? Two demon-snakes ate my arms."

"Um..." As Dante stared at her, Vergil also gave her a glance that, as far as she was concerned, meant he was interested in that story, if not curious.

"So, barely a few years into becoming a Holy Knight, an artifact was uncovered. Gauntlets. These things." She wiggled her fingers. "Of course we were told to not mess with unidentified relics. And then two of my fellow idiot knights decided to check it out, thinking maybe they'd get something out of it. Needless to say, things went bad. I arrived at the scene late."

She sighed, not really sure where she was going with this story. "They didn't survive. I got bitten in the process. Subdued the demons, but at a price. I was in the ER and the hospital for two weeks. Was told I might not have survived if..." Sera trailed off.

"What happened?"

A question, from Vergil. He rarely asked her anything. And that in itself compelled her to answer: "I was losing blood. A lot of it, to the parasitic metal creeping up my arms. I received five people's worth of transfusions. And that's only because Leo... told the doctors they weren't allowed to give up on me. I was losing way too much, too fast..."

"And you survived." Dante said with a soft smile. Sera couldn't place his expression. Was it... admiration?

She sucked in a breath, and looked away before responding softly: "Yeah. Yeah, I survived. Probably wouldn’t have if I didn’t feel like I had people still waiting for me, you know. After my parents died, I was livid when my mother’s side of the family stood by their decision to reject me and my mother. When Leo came around to check on me, I decided I’d join the Knights out of spite. Good ‘ol ‘Sir Valkyrie’ was a Knight of the order, you see. He rejected me as his granddaughter. So..” She trailed off. 

“So you made him mad with regret with your own success.” Vergil finished for her, a wry smile on his face. “I recall overhearing gossip about that at the library. People tried to accuse your mentor of favoritism, and believed you were only good at what you do because of your weapons.”

Sera sneered momentarily at the memory of some specific people. “Ah, the lovely librarians and their regulars. Well, I didn't ask for these weapons. They came at a price of the lives of two knights. With no other live witnesses to the event, even if Leo believed my report, people still talked.” 

Dante whistled. “You sound like you have a rocky history with your hometown.” 

“A rocky history that wouldn’t have been so, if-- Well, that’s in the past. I have better things to focus on now.” She pulled at the thoughts and memories of happier moments, and reached over to ask for permission to thread her arm about Vergil’s. He was hesitant at first, but then fell in step with her to allow it. Happy, she continued: “Anyway, the Ophidian Duet basically ate my arms up and replaced the bones there. I had to go through months of rehabilitation after that. Oh and I grew retractable fangs. That was another scare but I got over it.”

Vergil glanced over at her with a hint of curiosity. “You had fangs from that long ago?”

“I honestly thought you might have noticed, from… you know.” She ran her fingers along her own neck, though recalling something she did to him, instead. “I shouldn’t have done that. But then you never asked, and I already suspected that you were more than what you let on. So I thought we just both chose not to say anything." 

"...I was preoccupied."

Dante must have found something in all of that funny, for he laughed. "Alright, Angel. You're a tough girl. Not just anyone can pick up a set of Devil Arms. You don't run away from danger, either. But I guess, you're the type to run towards danger, aren't you?"

Something within her welled with pride. "I am no coward. But I wouldn't say I'm without a shred of reason, either. I just don't think normalcy was ever for me--"

Suddenly, she recalled something, and stopped in her tracks. At first, Vergil continued on, but barely half a step away from her, she felt a welling panic from within, and tightened her hold on his arm, wanting to pull him back to her. He stopped, and immediately asked her: “What’s wrong?”

But she could hardly hear or notice what was going on around her. Instead, she was remembering blood. 

A lot of blood. And pain. The scar at her stomach burned, as if freshly cut. She remembered the shaky and half-baked ward she drew over the door of her bedroom, done hastily in blood. Warding was an art that was imprecise, with hardly enough research material left on the subject to study upon. There was scratching and screeching at the door. At any moment, the ward could finally fail, and the sharp claws or blades of the lesser demons would turn her door and walls into splintered wood and broken plaster. 

She remembered making a choice, then and there, on something that she would give her life for. She had gotten hurt; the gash upon her stomach meant it was do or die. She knew there would be no outside help for her, at this hour.

Sera desperately wished, in that moment, that her mother was still alive. She might have known better, what to do. 

But there was only her, alone in her apartment. And so she carefully manipulated her blades and her claws, and pulled at her own wound, slicing it open further. 

She whined at the pain, but did not scream. 

She would bleed out from this. But she’d rather her child survive, than to die with her. That was the thought on her mind, when she reached over to grab something soft and dark that she had been stitching wards into for the last month.

In the present, Sera’s knees had buckled, and she was covered in cold sweat. Vergil had immediately knelt down beside her, and Dante followed suit, at her other side. Her hand that was holding onto Vergil’s arm with prior how was now clenching the fabric of the shoulder of his coat, while her other hand was upon her scar. 

Dante was the one speaking to her: “Angel? Sera? Hey, Sera, what’s wrong?” He glanced at Vergil, who curtly told him:

“I don’t know what’s causing her distress.”

However subtle it was, Sera heard a slight panic in the way his voice tightened, and she choked out: “I’m fine. It’s a memory. Just… a memory.” 

While she tried to even out her breathing, it didn’t escape her notice that Dante had brought a hand up in a gesture to maybe rub her shoulder or back, but then lowered it. After a few moments, Dante said: “Hey, Verge. This is usually the time where you should, you know, at least give her a hug?”

Sera knew that a lot of Vergil’s communication were done not in words, but in long and hard-to-decipher gazes. So the silence was not surprising. 

But then, he moved to gently pry her hand off of his shoulder, and in one swift motion, picked her up. Her breath hitched in surprise as she found herself cradled in his arms, one of his arms threaded between her and the crystal shield at her back, the other arm under her legs. Though, the Yamato was uncomfortably pressed into her side. 

“Hold on to the Yamato, for now.” He said simply. 

As she nodded and gently took the sword from his hand, Dante stood up also and gave them both a chuckle with a shake of his head, with his hands on his hips: “You don’t have to dial every action I suggest to you to an 11, man. But I suppose this works. Comfy, Angel?” He asked her.

“Comforted.” She fought a blush, and cradled the Yamato carefully, threading the sash of its sheath between her fingers. 

There was a blessed moment of silence as the party continued forward. Sera felt her heartbeat and breathing steady. The warmth from the body holding her brought her a contentment she didn’t know she craved. 

So she leaned her head comfortably into his shoulder and neck area, and smiled. 

Breathe in, breath out. Calm, and warm. And…

_Safe._

And then Vergil spoke softly: “The memory. What happened?”

She sighed. “The moment that led me here. I fell into the Underworld while fighting against lesser demons that attacked my apartment. But that desperate fight wasn’t the important part of the memory. I’m just glad that I was able to learn from both of you that Nero is safe and healthy in the world he belongs in. That he survived.”

Strangely, Dante was silent. But she could hear and feel Vergil’s breathing, at how he had momentarily held his breath. 

“I was hurt badly. Wounded, here...” She whispered as she traced half of her jagged scar. “I was supposed to bleed out in that last desperate fight. I had to… with my own weapons, my own claws, cut open the rest of my wound…” Her hand traced down to the rest of the scar. “Because my child deserved a fighting chance; to not perish with me.”

She felt Vergil hold her just a bit tighter, a little closer to him. He still remained silent, but to her, the gesture meant a lot already. So she tried to comfort him: “It’s okay. No one can predict the future…”

But to her surprise, he said: “No, but I was a fool for leaving. If I had remained just long enough, you would not have had to suffer that. The attack on you… I can hardly imagine it simply being happenstance.” Being so close to him, though his voice _sounded_ even, she could feel that the breathing in between sometimes held a slight hitch to it. “The blood of Sparda… Dante wasn’t entirely wrong to feel so poorly about it. It’s a scythe upon our necks, and brings misfortune to all we touch.”

Such melancholy words lit something in Sera’s heart. Ever bold, she shifted to be able to bring her hand up to his face, and used her touch to coax him to look at her, for him to halt his steps and bring blue eyes to meet her aqua-green ones: “V. Nero was not a misfortune to me.”

“But I--”

“Whether or not you were there, whether or not you thought of the consequences-- consequences which I had also neglected, it didn’t change my commitment to unconditional love. I had a choice, believe it or not. I chose love and life, over closing a chapter by my own hands. And I believe more than ever, now, that nothing was done in vain.”

She could tell that he wasn’t used to dealing with emotions, for he forced himself to look away from her and continued walking. So she brought her hand back down, but felt that his breathing was momentarily shallow. Then, a deeper breath in, and he said: “Dante is right. Nero will love you. You’ve done more for him than I ever could.”

Finally, from behind them, Dante said: “Not too late to start, though.”

And Vergil muttered under his breath: “Speak for yourself.”

“I’m serious, Vergil. If you’re worried about the kid hating your guts, don’t. He wouldn’t have stopped our feud if he really hated you.”

“And speaking of our disagreements--”

“Forget about our stupid disagreements!” Dante’s words suddenly had a bite of anger in them, but then Sera noticed how he immediately tried to soothe the anger out of his voice: “We need to do better about breaking our vicious cycle here. But honestly? If you ask me, I think you’re doing pretty great so far. Listen to Angel a bit more. I think it would do you good.” 

She felt a blush threaten to rise to her face again, and shifted just a bit, feeling a tad uncomfortable. And then Dante continued:

“And if you _actually_ manage to hurt her, or break her heart, I’ll be sure to beat your ass. How’s that for security?”

In the brief time she’s gotten to know Dante, even she could imagine the grin that accompanied his teasing tone as she blushed furiously and tried to hide her face into Vergil’s shoulder. 

“ _What a good knight in shining armor you are, Dante._ ” Though his tone was dripping in sarcasm, she felt his tight hold on her lighten a bit, as he also adjusted the position of his hand to be up closer to her shoulder, his thumb lightly brushing the back of her shoulder in a soothing gesture. She’s fairly certain that no gesture of his was without meaning, and she hid her giddy realization that… she meant something to him. 

She didn’t know yet in what way, and she suspected that perhaps he didn’t know in what way, either, but it made her melt. 

She wondered if this was what love felt like. (Because what she had before, she knew it for what it was: impulsive infatuation.)

And then, Vergil spoke to his brother: “I’ve been wondering about something, Dante.”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“You’ve spent ample amounts of time among people. You clearly have a few close friends. And yet, you are… without your own family, apparently.”

A statement that held a question. Sera wasn’t entirely curious about Dante, but she was curious about Vergil’s curiosity. 

Dante’s inhale of breath told of the tone of his answer before he gave it: “Man, always asking the hard questions, aren’t you, bro?”

“You don’t have to give me an answer. I simply thought that, between the two of us, you would have had the nicer things life had to offer.”

Sera didn’t like the kind of self-deprecating tone this conversation was taking, but she knew this was not a conversation she could interrupt. Not now, at least. Dante let out a bitter laugh: “Hah! I’m not that blind and naive, Verge. I… I couldn’t really reach out for something like that. Thought of it before. But in the end, I was…”

He sighed. “I was afraid. Event after event proved to me that nothing in my life could ever go right. Even as the so-called Legendary Devil Hunter, I was fairly certain that I would never be able to make all the right choices when it came to keeping family safe. I know better than to promise a hypothetical child a world that I can’t give. And at this point, I think Patty and Nero is proof that I don’t know a damn thing about being a good guardian, anyway.”

Vergil asked with mild confusion: “Who’s Patty?”

“Someone who’s going to be very very mad at me when I get back, for missing her 18th birthday.”

“Dante, I thought--”

“Chill. You don’t have a niece. But, if you did, I’d be telling you that you’d have to endure all of her whims, including any ribbon disasters the follows.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that example in mind when Nero wants something out of you, then.”

When Dante laughed at that, Sera found herself laughing with him, and she finally found a moment to say: “I’m sure we’ll work things out. It’s not like I really know how family works, either. But we’ll work things out.”

* * *

Snow sneezed, but continued to diffuse the rising panic that Nero and Nico were feeling by moving the conversation forward: “Yes, it’s Friday. But it’s a bit too early for anything to happen. Besides that, now that I know Vespen Knights are what’s been showing up, I’m actually going to need one to show up before we can do anything.”

“So, later today, we can actually get to work?” Nero confirmed. The prospect sounded nice. The longer they waited, the worse things might get. Not that it hasn’t already gotten bad to begin with.

“Yes. And I should probably explain a bit more: One of the specialities of the Hive Queen is the ability to create a hidden space to hide the court. This isn’t exactly the most exclusive of abilities, but it’s a major one associated with The Hive, and it’s yet another trait that calls to some of the stories people have of Fae. I really don’t know all of the exact details about it, but I do know that only Knights and above can enter and leave those spaces freely.”

“Oh! You plan on using one to find the location of where they are taking your family!” Nico exclaimed. “But wait, you said that you and your family members should rank higher than Knights, right?”

“We do, but that doesn’t mean we know what to look for, or how to open those doors. So, I’m going to have to observe a Knight, and hope that I can achieve the same.” She brought her hands together nervously. 

To Nero, this sounded like it hinged on a lot of maybes, but he didn’t want to dash any of her hopes. Instead, he continued to hash out details with her: “What about the enthrallment problem?” Nero asked. “How does that work?”

“I honestly don’t really know the details of it. Aegis didn’t talk about those details often. I do know that some manner of requirement has to be fulfilled for enthrallment to start, but I noticed something: my mother and I, neither of us had as strong of reactions as my uncles or my cousins did. In fact, we resisted it. And I think I know why.”

“Alright. What’s the explanation, Princess?” Nico 

“I think… I should show you that family photo I promised to show you, first. Why don’t you come with me to the office where we keep it.” She walked out from behind the bar, and beckoned for Nero and Nico to follow. Nico shrugged and re-pocketed her cigarettes that she hadn’t had the chance to light up yet.

It wasn’t a far walk; the office in question had a main desk, and a desk to the side. One wall had three tall bookshelves against it, while the back wall behind the main desk had a large panoramic of a family photo. 

“This was taken about two years ago.” Snow explained as she stepped aside to let her guests examine it. 

The photo was of the family at the steps of one of the gardens about the manor. Nero took one look at it and noticed the figure in the very back and center of the family. So he pointed and asked: “I’m going to assume the guy back there with crystal horns is Aegis, in some form of disguise.”

Looking up at the image, Snow smiled as she confirmed: “Yes. It’s his sealed form. Those horns aren’t usually there. But this was a somewhat private family photo.”

Seeing that made him wonder. “Huh. I wonder what Sparda looked like, when he was…” Nero trailed off. 

Snow smiled. “Well, strangely enough, a proper human form… I suppose it’s somehow part of what makes up a devil. Because their human-form’s looks can be passed down to their offspring. So, you might have some room for imagination.”

“Uh, yeah, you know what? I’m not sure if either Dante or Vergil really completes an image to me for what Sparda would have looked like. They’re, like, two sides of an extreme and they’re both assholes--”

“Far be it from me to know what our grandfather was like, but, uh, Nero.” Snow interrupted with a giggle. “I was kind of more referring to maybe when you look in the mirror. I guess I kind of forgot about...” Her grinned widened a little, somehow finding this funny.

Nero suddenly felt flustered. “M-me? I, I mean, that’s not something…”

Meanwhile, Nico had been studying the family photo intently, and pointed at the three adults standing one step below Aegis: a woman at the center, and two men to each side of her. “Hey, Princess. That your mother in the center there? And your uncles beside her?”

“Yeah. My mother, Kassandra. The man wearing mostly black and dark purple is Roy. The other one in white and lavender is Evan.”

Nico hummed. “‘Kay. Got a few questions for you. I noticed your mama looks pretty different from your uncles, and it’s not because of the hair colour.”

Deciding to take a closer look, Nero did notice that, indeed. Kassandra (his aunt…? The thought of Dante actually marrying anyone was a laughable concept to him.) did have different facial features. He wasn’t exactly sure how genetics worked, but her skin tone seemed different, too, and he didn’t think it was entirely due to the genetics grab-bag. 

Snow answered the curiosity: “The difference is pretty significant, isn’t it? They’re half-siblings. The three of them shared the same mother, but I was told that her father was someone very foreign.”

“And your uncles are related to someone more local, right?” Nico nodded in acceptance of this information. Roy and Evan certainly looked East-Asian. 

“More than just local.” Snow reached up towards the photo. “Unlike my mother, Roy and Evan…” She lightly brushed her fingers against the image of Aegis, “Are directly his.”

Nero squinted at the adults in the photo. “Half-Devils, huh? What are the odds...”

“And the risks…” Snow suddenly looked a little sullen. “Of course, even when the bloodline isn’t that close, this family has been made up of sorcerers, and witches, or simply crazy hunters, all descended from a long and crazy bloodline. We have a history. A chunk of it is boring and very human things. But then, there are stories of when family members had to hunt down another one, because someone couldn’t keep their devil’s blood in check.” 

Nero hissed, and clicked his tongue. Should he tell her…? Nah, he didn’t even have the full story about Dante and Vergil, not until he beat it out of them himself, instead of just going with second-hand accounts. Besides, he didn’t think she’d want to learn about that mess right now.

Meanwhile, Nico nodded again to herself, and then asked: “Okay. I see that’s you there… how about you give us some names to these faces, regardless of how well we’ll remember them later?”

“Sure. I’ll give you everyone’s English names. The woman here, in front of my mother, is Lauren, my aunt. She’s a witch from Australia, and came to us looking to form a pact. You already know that’s me, beside her. Across from me, to her other side, is Phoenix. The two blondes to the side of each of us are Crystal and Lilianna. That’s Rowan standing by Crys, with Jet in front of them. And then Layla beside Lily, with Robin in front of them.” Most of her cousins had brown hair of varying shades, except for Crystal and Lilianna. 

Nico lightly tapped her finger against the photo as she pointed out six specific people: “So, Roy ‘an Evan. Crys ‘an Lily. Jet ‘an Robin. Your family got three sets of identical twins going on here?”

“Mom did joke once that she’s surprised I didn’t end up with a twin sister.”

“I would say there’s no joke here, Princess. Dunno if your mama knew this, but Dante and Vergil are identicals, too. So, funny how you’re an only child.” Nico smirked. “Alright, enough ogling on my part. But I think I know what’s up. You and your mom aren’t as susceptible to the enthrallment because you aren’t second or third generation from Aegis, right?”

“That’s the theory I have, yes. Otherwise, in order to fall under Cerentine’s thrall, we’d have to fulfill the requirements of the thrall, first. And out of those requirements, I only know one. So stay away from the Hive’s honey.”

From behind them, Nero said: “Gotcha. Does that include honeyed words?”

She laughed. “On a technicality? Yes. Don’t let yourself be tricked into ingesting the honey.”

“Yeah, figured it was something like that. No way to break the thrall?”

“I… I don’t know enough to say. But… I don’t think it’s impossible.” Snow looked dreadfully sad as she said this. “I just don’t know what it takes, entirely. The only times I got to witness the enthrallment was when there was only me, my mother, Uncle Evan, and Aunt Lauren left. I was actually out with Evan, investigating the place Phoenix first disappeared from, when we were attacked. It was…”

She took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to give the Knight the chance to attack, so I went in, first. But I was flung back, and the next thing I know, Evan was standing between me and the Knight. He seemed troubled, like he was fighting against something I couldn’t see, when he spoke to the Knight. He said…

“He told the Knight that they can’t have me. But he didn’t want me to fight, either. Told me to run. And how was I supposed to take _that_?”

This suddenly felt very familiar to Nero. 

“Anyway, Uncle Evan fought, and eventually lost. But the strange thing was, the Knight had decided, sometime during and even after that fight, to ignore me. Once it managed to shove its spear through Evan’s side, it gave me this long look, and then just… took off, with Evan in its grasp. I tried to chase after them but then lost sight of them. And a similar thing happened last week. Except this time, they came to us. Our wards were clearly useless, since they were demons we were related to.”

“And that’s when they took your mother, and killed your aunt.” Nero finished softly. 

“Yeah.” Snow nodded. “Yeah. Except, that last time, it said something to me.”

“It spoke?” Nico asked. “Let me guess, they never did before?”

“No. Mind you, it spoke to me before it died. I killed that one, but it was too late. The lesser demons took my mother while I was preoccupied with the Knight. But it told me, when I finally did away with it… that time was ticking, and that I was next if I didn’t find a solution.”

“Wait, what?” Nico seemed to have picked up on something. “Is that actually what it said? That you needed to find a solution? That’s not your additional interpretation of your situation?”

“It did say that. Odd, wasn’t it? As odd as the fact that the Hive Queen is attacking us at all. And from what little stories Aegis had told us… it’s hard to believe. Because Queen Cerentine… well, she’s supposed to be… lovely.”

“You’re kidding me. We’re talking about a devil, right? She’s lovely?” Nero felt skeptical about this for a moment. 

Snow shrugged, and said softly: “If Sparda can love, and if Aegis can love, then why can’t his Queen love? Aegis would always say that Cerentine loved all of the children of her Hive. But I’m not sure if we’re really part of her design, you know?”

“And yet, every abduction, only one person was taken, save for your aunt, who was killed. You’re told that time was ticking, and that you needed to find a solution.” Nico started to pace in front of the desk, and then turned around to slam her hands on the surface. “Do you think she’s stalling for something? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t know what devils think or if I could apply human crime-solving to the scenario here, but it sounds like she’s stalling to me.”

“Maybe.” Snow wrung her wrists and hands. “So here we are. Day seven again. And my only solution is that… it’s time to dive into the fire.” Finally, she looked a little more resolute, as she glanced between the two of them.

And Nero could tell that this was one of those moments where they are grasping at straws, but still had to move forward somehow. So, straws it would be, because sometimes, it’s better to go into things fighting. “Sounds good to me. When do we start?”

“Right now. Let’s go to the garage, shall we?”

* * *

At some point, Sera had dozed off. Vergil found this somewhat awkward, but he supposed he asked for this, since he hadn’t set her down. Dante had remained oh-so-blessedly quiet. 

Somewhat.

If it weren’t for the fact that he didn’t want to wake Sera, Vergil would have wanted to do something about that infuriating grin that played on Dante’s lips. But for a long while, they simply continued on for a bit, with the crystal shield as a guide. 

The entire situation was a little bit frustrating. Vergil didn’t think that things were going to ever get more complicated than being down in Hell with Dante. Though now that things have developed the way it has, he realized that for a long time, he had been stalling with Dante. 

Before they came across Sera, Vergil didn’t really want to address the “getting out of Hell” part. 

But then, it was one thing after another, and before he knew it, he went from point A to...way past point B. And it felt strangely familiar, these events that were happening outside of his control. (The last time this happened, it had started with him accepting Sera’s help in Fortuna.)

And he didn’t have a clue where they were heading. 

Dante had, in a manner of speaking, offered him a place to stay, and included Sera in it. But would that pan out? Will that work? Regardless of the state of the Devil May Cry shop, Vergil wasn’t sure if he was going to… adjust. 

He’s used to the monotony of Hell. And as V, he spent the entire month in Redgrave while it was slowly becoming a Hell-Infested ghost-city. So, that counted as almost nothing towards adjusting to the world. 

Maybe he was more adjusted while he was in Fortuna. And _that_ was thought that almost made him laugh. 

There was also the what-ifs on… what if he had stayed? 

Oh, maybe it’s best if he didn’t think about that. He’s not sure how exactly he was going to face Nero as he is, now. He can’t imagine how terrible things would go if he were 20 years younger, faced with Nero as a child. 

But then, that’s the thing, isn’t it? If he hadn’t left, then he might be a different person than he was, now. 

Except, as Dante had already addressed, they can’t change the past. 

So, the biggest question was:

Could he be better for the future?

“Hey, Verge.” Dante suddenly lightly slapped his shoulder with the back of his hand. “Look, there. Isn’t that dad’s friend up ahead?”

And, indeed, up ahead, at the edge of an entire forest thicket of terribly twisted looking underworld plants, was the devil that had attacked them prior. 

“Might want to wake Angel up.” Dante then added. 

Vergil wasn’t sure how he was going to go about that. Should he shake her a little? Talk to her? Just try to set her down first?

Thankfully, because he had stopped walking, Sera woke up on her own. 

“Oh.” She softly gasped when she did. “I’m sorry! I seem to have dozed off--”

Seeing as this might be a good time to set her down, he simply started to do so, and she caught on pretty quick, allowing her feet to the ground while Dante said: “Head’s up, Angel. We have company.”

Sera was quick to focus her attention on the matters at hand, something Vergil thought was certainly a good trait from her knighthood. 

“Oh, it’s the scorpion guy again. He’s just standing there? What’s the plan here? Is there some sort of etiquette to observe this time?”

“Maybe.” Vergil responded as they all observed the devil. “He hasn’t attacked. Perhaps a careful but guarded approach will be good, first.”

“Sounds fine, with me.” Sera stepped forward, left-hand rapier out in a flash. But Vergil held out an arm to stop her.

“You have the shield. Do not take front.” He said plainly. 

She thought about it briefly, and nodded: “You’re right. Well, let’s go.”

So, with Vergil and Dante in front, and her behind them, they approached. The devil clearly recognized them, and when they got close enough to see him sigh, they could also see that he was still blighted by the veins of poison, but his eyes were momentarily still clear. 

“We figured you’d still come here. But I was hoping you didn’t. Roy seems to think you might be able to… help, however. And who am I to deny him his hope, when I have done so poorly in protecting him…”

Vergil slid Yamato partway out of her sheath with a flick of his thumb, and stated plainly: “I’m certain time is of essence. We need answers.”

“Ask, and you will receive, child. Do so while we still all have our wits about us.”

There was something very irksome about being addressed as a child. But Vergil did his best to bite down a retort as he asked: “Name?”

The devil pinched the bridge of his nose, careful to avoid hurting himself with his own claws. “Bloody hell. What name do I even give you? WeiRong? Overion? Aegis? That one’s more recent. Would Lance mean anything to you?”

“Lance.” Vergil suddenly recalled. “Yes, that would be a name I recognize. So you _are_ the one who sent that letter.”

“I’d like to ask which letter. I want to ask you a lot of things. But like you said, there isn’t a lot of time.” As Lance said that, he lowered his hand, and briefly dug his own claws of his other hand into his arm, clearly still trying to resist _something_. He then glanced between the twins, and said:

“I’ve heard that the Legendary Devil Hunter was known for a red coat. You _are_ Dante, then?”

“Glad to know my fame also runs around down here.” Dante just cocked his head with a grin. “Fancy being called my name for once, too. So this means you aren’t going to try and kill me?”

“So long as _I can help it_.” Lance ground out, and then looked over at Vergil: “Then you must be Vergil. I wasn't able to find a thing about you, whereas whispers of Dante at least existed. I actually tried to find where you went, but found very little. It wasn’t until I ended up back down here that I had heard of what Mundus had done to you. Yet here you are, _alive_. Alive and somehow _still down here._ What in the name of Hell are the two of you doing down here? I’ve heard some rumors that one of you had partaken in the damnable fruit. You’re not seriously here for that useless throne, are you?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa… slow down here.” Dante held out two hands to emphasize his words, while Vergil had raised his sword, prepared to unsheath it, because Lance had stepped forward towards him. “No one is here for that throne, which I agree with you, it’s useless. We’re actually trying to find our way out, too--”

“ _I gave you a way out._ ” Lance was oddly angry, though he stopped advancing forward when he saw Vergil’s stance. “For heaven’s sake, and I do mean _heaven’s sake_ , get out of here! I’m not about to let Mundus get his hands on either of you, too!”

That was enough for Vergil. He immediately drew the Yamato and dashed forward. Though Dante summoned his Devil Sword, as well, he instead made sure to stay between Sera and Lance. 

Lance parried the blade with another terribly twisted black spear, and took a step back while shouting: “Stay your blade! Fighting will only make me lose clarity!”

He didn’t want to stop, but he knew he ought to. Blade still drawn, but not making another move, Vergil asked tersely: “What connection do you have with Mundus?”

“If I had my way? _Nothing_. Never wanted part of his stupidity in the first place. Oh, yes, he called himself the King of the Underworld, but The Hive couldn’t care less. But that’s beyond 2000 years of history to recall. So, for better or for worse, tell me why you haven’t left yet, because I need you guys to leave. Mundus already has my Queen, and time is ticking. I can’t fail Spencer twice. _You need to leave._ ”

“Hey!” Dante called out from behind Vergil. “How do you know our pops?”

“And _that_ is another story that’s a bit too long. I’m a friend. I think one of the human terms, a penpal, works, too. Sometimes he visits me. I _do_ guard a stupidly boring hellgate for him, after all.” Lance then laughed bitterly. “You know, I was… kind of looking forward to the day when he might have visited with his wife, and with the two of you. And I should have gotten worried earlier when he stopped responding to me. I didn’t realize that…”

“That our father had been missing since we were seven, and that we had been attacked and missing since?” Vergil filled in.

“No. I didn’t realize, until one day I heard that the Temin-ni-gru had been unsealed. Clearly by then, it was too late.”

Vergil tightened his grip on the Yamato. How much did Lance know?

But from behind them, Sera finally spoke up: “I know there’s a lot of questions, but if time is of essence, I’m afraid we need to get to the point. We came here for Roy.”

“So you did.” Lance muttered. “It’s very noble of you, Miss Valkyrie. But when Roy told me you claimed to be a Holy Knight of the Order of the Sword, I suspected you might come back on the honorable sense of human decency.” He then shook his head. “But, right. Time. I might as well let Roy explain, so you should just go and see him.”

“Right. And where is he, exactly?” Dante asked. 

Instead of looking at Dante when he answered the question, Lance looked over at Vergil: “Beyond here is a fabric of divide, which shrouds the Garden of Essence, where The Hive and thus our court is hidden. It’s a coveted place, which Mundus and many others tried to conquer, but we always held our ground, until now. Feel for the place beyond this barrier, but be sure to ask for the _throne room_.” 

It was then that Vergil realized Lance was looking intently at the Yamato. And he realized what he was being told. Stepping past Lance, he paced slowly down the edge of the thicket, and could feel the energy and distortion. Concentrating, he thought of what he imagined would be the feelings and imagery associated with a throne room that was beyond that barrier, and with familiar practiced motions, sliced through the barrier with a cross-cut, opening a rift.

“Let us be off, then.” He didn’t want to look at Lance. Or glance back at Dante and Sera. Something about Lance made him uncomfortable. There was a sense of… something, within him. What was it that made him feel jumpy? He didn’t think it was fear. He knew what fear felt like. This felt like…

No, he didn’t want to think about it. He wasn’t a child anymore. He had to keep it together. 

He walked through the portal. 

Behind him, he didn’t hear the brief exchange Dante had with Lance:

“So, uh… what about you?”

“I need to stay here. For now. Go. Be safe. Please.”

“Hey, I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

Lance sighed. “I don’t know how foolish Spencer could have been. Yes, Dante, I’m sure you and your brother can take care of yourselves. But you could have been taken care of _better._ ”

Dante made a ‘tsk’ sound. “Wasn’t your responsibility, man. Welp, let’s go, Sera.”

The throne room of The Hive was oddly not made up of grotesque flesh or bloody walls. No, instead, it was golden and well-put-together, with columns and hexagonal wall-patterns. 

At least, it was probably beautiful before there was purple veiny corruption in the floors and walls. There was also a very out-of-place throne in the center of the room. There was one large throne in the back where it belongs, but this one didn’t even fit the decor: flesh and veins and tendrils of gross corruption formed the throne, where someone unfamiliar to Vergil sat. 

Dark hair was lengthy and pulled back into a messy braid, as if the person couldn’t be bothered. There was a small set of discoloured crystal horns protruding from his head. Very familiar-looking platings covered most of his body, though at some parts of the joints, they seemed to be half-formed, as if the man upon the throne was still in the process of…

Being converted into something. 

The black platings of chitin were in a pattern very reminiscent to Lance’s armor. There was even a long scorpion tail that snaked down to the floor. The man in question currently had his eyes closed, head propped by leaning his cheek into his fist, elbow against the armrest. Curiously, there was a maiden in a long butterfly-wing-themed gown, with long golden hair, sitting on the floor at the base of the throne, with her head against his knee while his hand carded through her hair--

Hair that was so fine and golden that it looked like they were actual threads of gold. She was unbelievably pale, and her eyes were open and staring at the newcomers with a neutral expression. Her sclera were also black, and her irises, an icy blue. 

“Roy!” Sera gasped from behind Vergil. “By The Saviour, what have they done to you?”

Roy opened his eyes. Vergil noticed they were the same shade of purple as Lance’s, but Roy’s sclera was white, like any normal human being’s. The marks of poison and corruption, however, could be seen in his skin, as well. 

“Pumped me full of… something.” Roy grumbled. “You might want to move.” He told the mysterious young girl, and she complied, though she remained kneeling on the floor. When Roy stood up, Vergil noticed the man had… tendrils connected to his shoulders, and probably more in his back. It reminded him suddenly of when the Qliphoth had Urizen connected to the throne, feeding him blood. 

This was no Qliphoth throne, but this was a classic method of parasitic feeding. 

“If you were hoping I’d be able to leave this place with you, I’m afraid that’s a bit late…” Roy crossed his arms and addressed them. “I’m a bit stuck.”

“You talking about these things?” Dante walked up brazenly to examine what was connected between Roy and the throne, and whistled. “Nasty looking stuff. But I’m sure it’s not a match against a bit of good old fashioned hack and slash.”

“Don’t. This connection goes both ways, for now. So long as The Queen isn’t here, I have a semblance of control over this place. I’m what’s keeping the rest of this place _sane_ right now. We have something we need to discuss. Call it a job, or a favor. But since you all came here with that shield that I’m so desperately trying to keep away from our puppet-master,” He pointed at Sera, who held the shield. “I think you might want to know what exactly we’re dealing with.”

Vergil scrutinized the situation, especially this man before him. “It seems pretty plain to me here, that Mundus is trying to make new pretty little soldiers for himself.”

He heard Sera mutter: “Well, what do you know… maybe I will get to shred him to ribbons after all.”

He realized he didn’t like the idea that she would want to confront Mundus, but wasn’t able to find the right words for his thoughts, when he knew he had once foolishly challenged Mundus himself. 

“No, Mundus is trying to make pawns out of us, while he tries to collect a very specific set of toys for his petty revenge. But I have a question, first.” Roy turns towards Dante. “You’re Dante, right?”

“Wow, do I feel popular today! Yeah! The one and only!”

“All right. I do apologize, but I’m about to punch you.”

“Wait, wha--”

And then Dante was punched right in the nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- If Sera’s little poem feels a bit clunky this time, that’s on purpose. It was a first draft, and she doesn’t have much of a way to write it down right now. Certain eloquence comes from careful revision.  
> \- I finally decided to go with a staple fan-choice for Kyrie’s last name. Sometimes, lack of a last name makes for difficult writing.  
> \- I keep making references to ‘Demon Slayer’ and I’m doing it for no other reason than the fact that I like that anime. :)  
> \- If you’re feeling a tad bit confused… the mystery isn’t solved yet.  
> \- The Ophidian Duet! Took me forever to name it! It’s actually named after one of my favorite pieces of exotic armor in Destiny 2: The Ophidian Aspect! Functionally, they are NOTHING similar, haha. After all, Destiny 2 is a shooter game… where I collect pretty hand cannons.  
> \- Statistically speaking, there is no correlation or genetic predisposition to identical twins being a family trait. I know this. There is also absolutely no plot-related thing going on with the twin thing. I just have a bad habit of not letting go of old RP material when it comes to OCs. =P  
> \- I am… absolutely all in for the “Vergil awkwardly trying to comfort someone” thing. And I mean, he’s not doing terrible, right? And yes, Dante is totally and immediately in love with the idea of Sera being part of the family.  
> \- Except Dante is also totally in for many punches in the gut. Or face.


	7. Metamorphosis Unseen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is still “play” in “work”. And everything in between. Heavy atmosphere? Nah. Fill the in-between with Q and A instead. 
> 
> The larger the picture Nero is painting of Snow, the more he wonders about how he could possibly deal with the twists and turns that will inevitably happen. 
> 
> But for now, maybe he should count his blessings that everyone seems to be heading in the same direction for once. 
> 
> “Home sweet home,” right?

_Worry not over the storm  
_ _That comes upon a butterfly’s wing._

 _Even the sharpest eyesight  
_ _Cannot see past the curve of the horizon._

 _The only way to see more,  
_ _And to experience more,  
_ _Is to walk forward  
_ _Towards the unknown._

* * *

To be fair, Roy did give a warning.

Vergil saw the action, and read it for what it was: a plain and simple punch. One that Dante _should_ have dodged. One that he could have, but _didn’t_. 

Dante was hit square in the nose, and even took half a step back. Sera yelped, and Vergil caught her by the arm to keep her from running forward. 

Though bleeding profusely from the nose, Dante grimaced briefly as he set his nose back in place before the healing kicked in, and wiped away as much blood as he could off his face, before grinning: “That’s a mean punch you’ve got there, but my nephew hits harder than that.”

Though Vergil did feel a moment of… something, warm, in his chest, from hearing that, he couldn’t help but scoff: “You could have dodged that, foolish little brother.”

And Roy, hearing what was clearly meant to be an insult, simply narrowed his eyes and smirked, as he raised his fist and showed that he was able to manipulate the crystals on his body to manifest about the knuckles: “You want another to compare?”

“How about you tell me why you wanted to punch me in specific, of all people? If anything Vergil’s usually the asshat of the two of us! Punch him, instead!”

Surprisingly, Roy lowered his fist and allowed the crystals to recede. “That’s a familiar tune of a sibling relationship. Well, I will admit, punching you solved nothing. The issue is something for you to sort out, later. And that’s only something that can be sorted out if the rest of my family gets rescued.” He then reached forward, and grabbed Dante by his shirt to pull him down a little closer to examine him. Discounting Roy’s horns, there was about a good 10cm [4”] height difference between them. 

“Whoa now, okay, if you wanna get handsy, you could have just asked.” Dante flashed a cheeky grin. Vergil suppressed a groan. His brother was taking this situation way too lightly again. 

But Roy simply stated: “Not interested. You really haven’t been taking care of yourself all these years, by the way.” 

“Hey, look, Hell doesn’t hand out shaving cream and razors—”

“I do not mean your personal grooming, though you clearly haven’t handled that in a while, either. I mean that, for a half-devil, the state of your sealed form can often reflect your emotional health. You have not been well for a long while, for your body to have aged like so. Our regeneration should extend our prime beyond that of a normal human being’s. But neglect of one’s emotional health can lead to said regeneration becoming haphazard, and allow for aging at a more human rate, or more prominently, allow for scarring.” He paused, and then cryptically continued: “Don’t get me wrong. You are not in a terrible state, and with proper care your body will readjust itself and heal what was neglected. But it pains me to see that you are like this, when you could have been happier.”

“Okay, one,” Dante started, “I feel like I’ve just been insulted. Two, that’s none of your business. And three, why do you care?”

Roy let him go, with an added push to put distance back between them. “Because you look like you need someone to care. But that’s all things that won’t matter if the worse comes to pass.”

Vergil’s patience was waning. “Explain. You said you had a request.”

“I do.” Roy turned to face Vergil. “I have little reason to believe that you will take it, however. As, unless I can leave here, I have nothing to provide for compensation. You have everything you need to leave Hell already. And that key,” He pointed at the shield, “will take you to the gate that is beneath my home.”

Roy took two steps towards Vergil, which was about as far as he could go while being tethered to what Vergil considered to be a false throne. “I have little right to request this of either of you. If I had my way, I would be happy to make my demands after a right of combat. However…”

“I have no desire to take a dying request.” Vergil responded in dry humor. Anyone but Dante or Nero would be a fool to think they could win a fight against him in order to make a demand of him.

And Roy laughed at that. It was something hearty and amused, and Vergil could tell that this man favored his devil nature more than his human one, as there was a flash of fang, a flick of his deadly tail, and a glint of something in his violet irises with pupils that turned to slits: “And I have no desire to beg. But we both know a fight would not be conducive right now.”

Sera then lightly placed her hand on Vergil’s shoulder, and addressed Roy: “Your request. You want us to find your family.”

The question itself seemed to calm something in Roy. The scorpion part-devil sighed, and dipped his head momentarily to run his clawed fingers through his hair. “If you would, please.”

Dante walked around to join Vergil and Sera at where they were standing. He shrugged, and spoke before Vergil could: “Well, gotta hear the full request before making a decision. And I want to know, should I be expecting any more punches to the face from other family members?”

A bitter laugh came from Roy, as he turned back to his “throne” to settle back down into. “Maybe from my brother, Evan. But he might refrain. If it’s any consolation, my niece, Snow, will have bandages and salves for you.”

“Huh…” Dante rubbed his chin, eyes narrowing a little. “Okay, how about you tell us a bit about what’s going on? I’m going to stop pretending I didn’t hear _Mundus_ being mentioned. No more time for jokes.”

When Roy sat back down, the girl that had been silently kneeling at the floor came back up to rest her head upon his knee again. He began to run his clawed hand through her hair again, and started: “This here, is a princess. She doesn’t have a name yet, and would only receive hers when the current Queen dies. She is part of what’s helping to keep me sane, so that we keep the entire Hive sane. And she is every bit a hostage as we are right now.

“There’s a lot of history to be sorted out, but we don’t have time for it. Mundus corrupted Queen Cerentine. I don’t think I need to explain what that means to a hive structure like ours. She tries to fight back, but there is little room for negotiation.”

“Mundus will never make a fair negotiation, regardless.” Vergil supplied with venom.

“No. He wouldn’t.” Roy agreed. “He would use whatever means he can get his hands on, in order to chase after an end goal of revenge. I can’t say I understand what goes on in his head, but I know he’s been consumed by want of revenge against Sparda and all his kin.”

“That’s kind of old news, no offense.” Dante cut in. “Where does this…” He waved a hand to motion at the area about them, indicating at this “Hive” they were speaking of, “play into the old bastard’s plans?”

“In a game of chess, taking the king is checkmate. But the queen is the strongest chess piece of the board. Control the queen…”

“And you might control the game.” Sera finished. “You said earlier that Mundus is making pawns of all of you.”

“Attempting to. We resist. But we can only resist by so much, and for so long. His first order of business is to be able to break through to the human world. Having missed the chance to get his hands on another Qliphoth fruit…” Roy stared evenly at Vergil. “He will settle for simply massacring humans to take their blood from the source. I’m certain that once he regains enough of his strength, he will then seek out the two of you.”

“And your family lives above the gate that this key leads to. That is why you didn’t want it to fall into the enemy’s hands, and why you are connected to this.” Sera quickly put together. 

“Indeed. And he is using the Queen to take every member of my family hostage. But it’s more than that. There is one member of my family who could utilize that key between worlds most efficiently. My niece, Snow. And if he gets his hands on her and the key, then he gets what he wants. A blood buffet.

“Cerentine does not want that. The Hive have been attempting to remain outside of Mundus’ grasp for millennia. But all things have their rise and their fall. With the Hive King having been away for so long, I suppose eventually Mundus found a weak point in the Hive. We resist. We stall. But even then, we are fighting a losing battle, when they have hostages. But if you can free the family members of mine that remain alive, and keep them out of Mundus’ grasp…”

“How many of them remain alive? Do you know?” Vergil asked. 

“I cannot be certain. But aside from Snow, I have a younger brother, and a younger sister. There are also three sons and four daughters to be accounted for.” Something then darkened in his eyes. “The contract marking I had with my mate dissolved. They killed her, likely because she is not of Hive blood.”

Vergil could not be certain what was going on in Dante or Sera’s minds, but there were a few things he understood here. At the mention of a contract marking, Vergil had to ask: “A witch?”

“Yes.”

It was a simple answer. And Vergil’s grip on the Yamato tightened. Dante, also, pressed his lips to a thin line. 

A witch, for a part-devil’s mate? And children to be accounted for...

Neither Dante or Vergil knew if their mother had a contract with Sparda, but they knew without a doubt that she was a witch. 

Vergil felt conflicted over this. He knew first hand that devils will use whatever means necessary to exploit emotions as a weakness. But Dante didn’t seem to be putting much doubt into this scenario. Again, the fool that he was… but it had gotten his brother this far, hasn’t it?

“Mundus just doesn’t know when to quit, does he?” Dante’s tone had an edge of anger to it. “So, our family wasn’t enough. Now he has to go and harass someone else’s?”

“He would poke a hornet’s nest, yes, to get his revenge.” Roy answered with obvious venom, probably just as eager to tear Mundus apart. 

“Alright. It wouldn’t be a good sport for me to take your ticket out of here and not repay the favor.” Dante accepted the request so easily, though it wasn’t without personal reasons. 

“Dante,” Vergil started. Taking the request was one thing, and Vergil certainly had a deep-seated bone to pick with Mundus, but…

“What? You actually have protests, Verge? That would be surprising, coming from you. This needs to stop. First our parents. Then, he almost took you away from me. Now he’s trying again, this time he’s hurting people who are dad’s _friends_. Cripes, Vergil, how many of those do we even have in this world? Friends? And every time, Mundus wants to wreck what we have left. Took mom, took our home, took you… you know, after I beat him up on Mallet Island, I was content to die down in that rubble. What was the point of going on, when I had already lost you? Took my vengeance, might as well rest my bones. But Trish got me out. So I lived another day. And another, and another… and then I finally got to meet Nero—”

“Dante.” Vergil interrupted. “It’s not that I have protests. But there’s also the matter that we need to leave Hell. With what is happening, Sera needs to—”

“You aren’t trying to say that I should be sent home and be kept out of this, are you?” Sera asked. Internally, Vergil sighed. This was going to be tricky. He wasn’t certain how he should handle her situation, yet. 

“You need at least some manner of health check. And perhaps a shower and new clothes, at the very least.” Vergil responded with the most practical answer, and continued with Dante: “And as much as I do not wish to, I know better from the last time this happened. Perhaps we should tell Nero, and your other hunter friends.”

At the sound of Nero’s name, Dante seemed to freeze. It was such an awkward scene, that Dante was the more reluctant one to tell Nero about this mess. 

But he came around, and solemnly agreed: “Yeah. Didn’t think I’d hear that from you, but you’re right. Look how well things turned out, when I didn’t tell him a thing? Kid deserves to know this time, before Mundus takes him by surprise.”

For Vergil, this was probably the only small step he could take right now, to make up for everything he had wronged Nero by. 

It was then that Roy interrupted: “I have a few other things we need to sort out. Seraphina, when was the last time you’ve fed?”

She blinked, glanced over at Vergil, and said: “Recently. Why?”

Understanding why she glanced over at Vergil, Roy addresses him: “If you’re not opposed to it, continue giving her some of your blood regularly. I was careful to give her very little, before I was captured. But any trace of the Hive blood left in her might mean a connection could be formed.”

Hearing that, Vergil felt a welling possessiveness. But he kept his irritation at bay, and simply told him: “If she’s fine with it, then we will take that advice.”

“...I’m going to assume it’s to overpower what’s already in my system, right?” Sera asked. 

“Yes. Though it shouldn’t take much. You won’t find a better candidate than a potential King of Hell to take blood from. The power of the Qliphoth fruit is strong.” 

Sera seemed to find this situation a tad bit embarrassing. “I… see. That wasn’t why… Well, thank you for your concern.” She then seemed to find her bearings, and continued: “And on the basis that you _have_ helped me, I would like to state that I still have my Knight’s Honour. On that alone, I will offer to help in whatever way I can.”

“We need more information, before we can know for certain how we can help.” Vergil stated. “For one, we do not know where your family members are being held, much less if they are still alive.”

“They are not here. Not in the underworld. Otherwise, I would be able to feel their presence. These events have all been happening in the human realm. Only there will you find more answers. And if Snow is still there, she should be able to fill you in on the rest of what happened since I came down here.”

“A thought just occurred to me.” Dante spoke up. “What about you? And that guy out there? We save your family up there, and then what?”

There was an uncomfortable amount of silence in the room, as Roy’s gaze hardened. 

And it was the “Princess” with hair as fair as finely spun gold, and skin as pale as purple lilies, that said in a haunting and dainty voice: “The Prismatic Hive must start anew. The Queen despairs. She wishes to be set free. She awaits her King to strike. And when the checkmate ends the game, I...” She glances up at Roy, “Will re-seal the perimeter.”

This answer didn’t satisfy Dante. “No. That doesn’t answer everything. What about _you_ , Roy?”

“...The King must kill his Queen. And in his despair, I must be there to release my sire from his torment.”

“Wait, that’s your—”

“There are worse things than death and patricide, Dante.” Roy smiles bitterly. “At least we are fighting for what we believe in, and for those we love. Should you meet them, please don’t let my brother get under your skin too much. He’s always a bit of a meddling nag. And take care of my sister, please. The rest of the children, especially the younger ones, will need the remaining adults around…”

“Roy.” Sera circled around to place a hand on Dante’s shoulder, stopping him from responding to the tragic plans laid out. “Nothing is set in stone. We could still find other paths.”

“Well, then I can only place my hopes in the Sons of Sparda, then.” He sighed, and his gaze became forlorn. “Did you know… that had Sparda been able to remain, we would have eventually met? Perhaps we would have been able to call each other childhood friends. It would have been nice to have friends like you, I’d think. Kassy might have been able to have less conflict with herself, too. And maybe Snow would have been happier.”

“You speak specifically of Snow, many times.” Vergil realized. “Your niece. Not your daughter. Why?”

The way Roy stared at Dante only compounded the mysteries in Vergil’s head. 

“The eldest daughter of the family bears a burden that none of us could bear for her, and my sister could never admit to herself that she could have handled the situation better. When you find Snow, you must promise me to treat her well. In fact, I’d say that you owe me that much.”

* * *

“What’s this for?” Nico asked as Snow began handing her stuff along with the laptop. 

“Login, password, keys, important phone numbers… oh and this is a temporary permit of sorts, if you need to get on the road.”

She handed Nico a thick piece of fancy paper. 

“Driving permits sure look weird here.” The mechanic noted as she looked at the paper’s contents. 

“It’s not actually a driving permit. It’s a letter with my signature and my family’s seal on it.” Snow walked around and pointed at the signature and seal. 

Nico glanced up nervously. “Er… Princess, this is legal, how?”

Snow seemed to find that amusing, and smirked: “We’re devil hunters. You can’t tell me that everything we do goes through legal channels now, can you?” And then she shrugged. “It’s not entirely solid, but most of the law enforcement here are under the impression that we’re some old underground family. Most of the actual gangs and mafia around here are scared of us, you see…”

“Alright. I ain't gonna question it further.” She stowed the paper away. “So, where are we headed?”

“Actually, for now, I think it will just be me and Nero. The warehouse area that Phoenix first disappeared at has an easier route to get to if you know how to take shortcuts with a motorcycle.”

“Motorcycles?” Nero asked. 

“Yeah!” Snow beamed. “Here, come with me to the garage.”

The garage was detached from the rest of the building. Nero thought it made sense. This house seemed old. The garage was probably built after. And this garage was kinda big…

Filled with one van, three cars and five motorcycles, plus a large array of parts and tools. 

Two of the three cars looked like relatively new models of sports cars. And the motorcycles were definitely souped up sports bikes. 

“Wow! Someone in the family has a taste for sports vehicles?” Nico appraised. 

“Most of us, yeah.” Snow grinned as she made her way towards the bikes. “Roy does a lot of customization, and he’s something of a speed demon. I’ve heard stories of when he was younger, causing trouble in the street-racing community out in the city. That over there…” She pointed at a mostly black with blue-accents sports car, “Is his absolute baby.” And then she stage-whispered: “He calls her Nightedge and still takes her out to the streets every other week or so.” 

“That…” Nero walked around the car. “This… is a Lamborghini…”

“Hey, I wasn’t kidding when I said my family’s rich.” Snow responded with laughter as she went to grab something from a key-rack. 

Meanwhile, Nero had a lot of thoughts going on through his head. The first thing was how Snow’s lifestyle was a complete and total opposite of Dante’s. And he’s not sure how well this was going to go over when they meet. Would Snow be disappointed when she meets Dante? 

Deep down, Nero hoped that wouldn’t be the case. Dante was… Dante. A pain the ass show-boating son-of-a-bitch (okay maybe he should refrain from thinking that way; his grandmother deserved better) who can’t be a proper family role-model, but ultimately still a good man with a good heart. 

“Nero, catch!” 

He was snapped out of his thoughts when Snow tossed a set of keys towards him. He caught it easily.

“I’m not wrong, but blue is your colour, right?” She asked while pointing at a black and blue motorcycle. 

“Yeah. Let me guess, your Uncle Roy’s machine again?” Black and blue seemed to be his colour. 

“Yep! The white and red one is Evan’s. And this one…” She walked around to another machine, one that was amber with transparent honey-gold accents… like the colour of her tail. “Is mine.”

Nico had been circling about between all the machines like a busy bee. “Lamborghinis, Yamahas, and that, Princess, is a Kawasaki Ninja. Fancy stuff. All customized, too.” She then looked up at them. “So, what’s the game plan?”

“Well, Nicoletta. You hold the fort and be on call. Nero and I are going to see if we can find out where the demons and devils are hiding.” Snow answered as she grabbed a helmet. Nero followed suit, grabbing the one already hanging off of the handlebars. “If I’m lucky, I’ll find one of my family members…”

“If we do, we’ll fight tooth and nail to drag them back.” Nero reassured her. 

She grinned before putting her helmet on. “That’s our motto, you know. And our shop front name. Tooth and Nail on the sign outside, Fang and Claw on the sign indoors.”

There was something definitely poetic about it, and Nero immediately understood what it meant. 

A human guise on the outside, but a devil on the inside. 

It was peculiar how she was raised among people who revolved around this duality, when he spent most of his life denying his. 

And after receiving a “good luck” from Nico, with Snow leading the way off the island through the underwater tunnel, they then got onto a mostly empty freeway.

Nero spent a good amount of time thinking. 

He asked himself… when Vergil came back, how was he going to face him?

It was clear that Snow had wanted to meet Dante. Probably still did. And how would that go? Would she be like Nico? Greet Dante nervously and excitedly as if she were meeting an idol? Or maybe she would do so with formalities?

One thing was for certain, Snow didn’t seem to hold any grudge regarding Dante’s absence in her life. If anything, Nero picked up that she had some light displeasure over her mother’s decision to keep her from knowing. 

And suddenly, Nero felt like he mentally blindsided himself. 

Should Vergil come back, Nero’s sure that his father wasn’t going to be forthcoming with information about his mother. Heck, the bastard probably didn’t even care about her! And here was Nero, with a book full of poems, and shreds of proof that his mother did care…

Then, through the bluetooth intercom that was installed into the helmets, Snow’s voice came through loud and clear above the roaring engine and rushing wind: “Hey Nero. Nico said you were a knight. What’s the story behind that?”

Surprised by this question, he answered truthfully: “Uh. I, uh, grew up on an island that worshipped Sparda. Had this Order of the Sword there, before things went south. So I was an Order Knight for a while.”

“An Island that worshipped Sparda? Oh, Fortuna!”

“You heard of it?”

“Yeah. Aegis told me not to tell my mom, but he told me lots of bits about Sparda.”

That blew his mind. “Holy shit. Wait, you need to tell me some of this stuff. It’s gotta be more interesting than the Order’s teachings, which, by the way, were mostly a bunch of bull.”

Her laughter chased away some of his previous worries, as she continued: “Well, it’s hard to remember every detail, but overall, I guess… Sparda was kind of silly.”

“He was?”

“Yeah. Apparently he’s not great at cooking. Good at eating, though. But most powerful devils have a big appetite. Aegis likes to make fun of that a lot. I guess in the recent century or so, Sparda had sent a recipe book on Italian cuisine. Written in Italian. Which, by the way, we don’t regularly teach around here. But now all of us know bits and pieces of Italian words in order to read that cookbook.”

“You’re kidding me.” Nero cracked a grin to himself. “You guys still have it?”

“Aegis actually likes to cook. Bit of a requirement for a devil who spends millennia raising mostly-human children. And I love a good pasta.”

Though this was just one very simple piece of information, Nero couldn’t help but feel amazed at this little connection Snow could have with Sparda. Despite all the confusing feelings and the shocking surprise after surprise he’s had to deal with regarding “The Saviour,” this somehow immediately warmed his heart. “What else?”

“Sparda reenacted plays for Aegis.”

“What?” In Nero’s mind, Sparda was… a large man with horns. He knew better now, but he also didn’t know what Sparda _really_ looked like. So when Snow said Sparda reenacted plays, Nero’s mind immediately thought of Dante. 

“Yeah. Aegis found them _entertaining_. Don’t ask me if he was good at it though. I can only imagine that it was something… enlightening.” Snow laughed.

“Geez… I don’t think I’d want to witness that. It must have been something cheesy as...”

“A production of Hell?” Snow laughed as she led him off an exit ramp.

Nero made a ‘tsk’ sound. “Suddenly, I realize my whole world has been expanded by irony.”

“Irony is something that makes life _colourful_ , though. But for all the amusing things, I guess Sparda had a few traits that Aegis found exasperating, too. Such as his inability to remember names properly. Given time, he could get it right, but Aegis is a little miffed that Sparda never properly remembers the names of the children he had met.”

Though they could not see each other through the helmets while their eyes remained on the road, Nero creased his brow. “Aren’t there a _lot_ of kids to be keeping track of over the course of the centuries? How often did he visit?”

“Every handful of decades to a century. Any given generation is lucky if they live long enough to see him more than once. So, in Sparda’s defense… it would be hard to remember names properly.”

At this, Nero realized something. “Did your mom and her brothers…?”

She sighed. “Aegis had been looking forward to being able to meet Sparda’s sons. But that never came to pass. It’s strange to think that, despite what has happened, somehow, my mother got to meet Dante anyway…”

“Like fate?”

“Nah. We have a belief in our family… fate is not predetermined. It’s just a romanticized way of looking back on our past decisions, and saying we wouldn’t have done things any differently.”

He mulled over her words as he glanced up through the tinted visor of the helmet, noticing that the sky seemed to be brightening a little. “That’s a good one. I was never a fan of the idea of fate or destiny, anyway. You got a cool thought on destiny?”

“Even if you’re innately good at something, you still need to hone it. And even if you don’t start good at something, you can still work for it. Destiny is the same way. It’s a choice.” From ahead, Snow glanced back at him, probably smiling behind her visor. “That one didn’t originate in my family. Sparda taught Aegis that, when at first, Aegis was lost after being separated from his Hive.”

How strange it was, to be hearing things about Sparda that Nero could actually believe. Not even Dante said so much about “The Saviour”. 

Snow then continued ahead, and nodded towards an area to the left. “We’re going through the backroads now. Follow me.”

Nero followed as she veered sharply into the backroads. She clearly knew where she needed to go, and he followed every tight turn she made. Eventually, she said over the communications: “There’s a jump up ahead. We’re going past a low wall. There’s a way around it but, let’s be honest, we can’t be bothered.” 

He couldn’t help but smirk at her statement. Though he had to wonder where she was going to find a ramp, he's sure she wouldn’t ask for the impossible. Sure enough, as they came up towards the obstacle, Nero felt Snow charge up some sort of power. 

It didn’t take much for him to understand what she was doing. He felt the chill in the air as she swept her arm forward, flicking her wrist in the process, and a frozen (but textured for tracktion) ramp formed perfectly in front of them. With ease, both bikers cleared the wall, and with a few more turns, they came up to the tall barb-wire fencing of the warehouse compound. 

Snow slid to a stop before Nero, right in front of the fence. He took a simple stop before her, glanced up, and said: “Let me guess. Screw the rules, we’re going in?”

“I could get them to open the gates for me but that would take too long. Work first, apologize later. Besides, this warehouse belongs to one of the Families.” Snow explained as she killed the ignition, and took off her helmet. “The head knows who I am. No amount of masks can hide my hair. I’m the worst-camouflaged member of the Tooth and Nail.”

Somehow, this worried Nero. “Wait. You guys use masks?”

Snow waved her hand in front of her face, and an amber and gold dragonfly-themed mask formed on her face, before she waved her hand again and vanished it. “Yeah. We all have hunting outfits, too. But in recent years, the masks are more of an accessory. Still, maybe we should fashion you one, too. Though you’ll probably be met with the same problem as me…”

Taking off his helmet, Nero nervously ran his hand through his hair. “Maybe we’ll figure that out after we figure out what we can find here.”

Smiling, she simply nodded, and then reached into her pocket to grab...lipstick. Painting her lips a blood red, she noticed Nero raise a brow at her. 

“Warpaint.” She grinned. “Serves no other function than to make me look good. 

Well, who was Nero to tell her what kind of battle-dress she should wear? If anything, this told him exactly how extra she was... just like Dante. (But then he thought of V, and realized with belated mental horror that Vergil might not be any less extra.)

He followed her over the fence; she went over the fence and barb-wire with an impressive hike and a flip. Nero, having mastered the air hike with his abilities and had wings to help, cleared the fence without so much as touching it. 

“I knew those looked like wings! And that double-jump was impressive!” Snow praised, her tail even waving in a sort of affectionate way behind her. 

“Thanks. The air hike was a little something I picked up from Dante.” He wouldn’t have been able to keep up with the Devil Hunter otherwise, back during “The Saviour” incident in Fortuna. Back then, he was too preoccupied with chasing down “the murderer” and then saving Kyrie to think about the leaps and bounds in his new abilities. 

The warehouse area was definitely your typical stretch of warehouses. Expanding his senses, Nero didn’t feel like anything was amiss. “Anything on your radar?”

“Nothing, yet. I’m not exactly even sure what I’m looking for. But I wonder if I could just… lure something out…” She glanced around. 

“Is that wise?”

“Well, we certainly can’t just take the fight to them if we don’t know where they are.”

“Alright. What kind of lure are we talking about here?” Nero honestly wasn’t as adept with his senses as he had hoped. Everything about the place felt and smelled normal. 

“Well, I’m a beacon right here. They want me. I know it. But maybe if I just…”

She took her snowflake hairpin, and her katana morphed into her hand. As she took a familiar stance, gait wide and low, hand above her sword, Nero noticed that she took a purposeful inhale. It was becoming clear to him that the breathing was a technique, as he felt her aura change into something sharper; stronger, even. 

If she did manage to lure something in, then it would probably be an immediate fight. Instinctively, Nero circled to put his back towards hers, grabbed Red Queen, and set it out before him to give her one good rev. He was ready to swing and immediately ignite his blade for the follow-up. 

Her aura pulsed with each new breath. On the third exhale, he felt it: a disturbance in the air, behind him and before Snow. “Duck!” He called, and she immediately crouched further as he grabbed Blue Rose. Dual bullets shot forth and hit whatever was coming through the tear in the fabric of space, knocking it back a bit before it angrily re-emerged from the portal.

He saw the target; a tall and thickly armored knight. It immediately called to mind Agnus, but Nero had to admit, this “Vespen Knight” was a lot better-put-together than the artificial monsters of the Order. Wasp-like, elegant though hefty, with a posture that was proud like the knight it ought to be. The entirety of its armor was a deep umber colour, and it held a lance and shield combo that painfully reminded Nero of Credo. More than that, it had a second set of arms under its weapon-wielding ones, too. 

The moment the knight stepped out, Snow phased forward and _through_ the knight with a signature swift cut. This time, Nero saw better what she did: it was almost like she had turned into white smoke, or perhaps it was mist? But there were more important things to worry about for now. All around them, smaller wasp-like demons were showing up. Nero shot a few down, and swung out Red Queen at a few others. 

“You kill the adds, I’ll hold boss aggro.” Snow called, and immediately focused her attention on the knight. 

“What?”

“...You play games?”

“A few platformers!” Nero shouted as he revved his blade and cut down a small swarm with a fiery slash. “Nothing fancy!”

“MMO lingo. Just take care of the small fry first while I focus on the big guy! Then come help me!” 

He wasn’t too sure what an MMO was, but her logic was sound; the last thing they wanted was to be overwhelmed. Pretty soon, his head was more in the fight as opposed to thinking about the long run. When at first the swarm appeared to be never-ending, between his abilities and Snow’s occasional batting-at-the-pests with her tail, the swarm thinned. 

Speaking of Snow’s tail, it had changed. Became thicker, more armored, and covered in spikes. When she batted something away, Nero could hear a satisfying _whump_ with the action. Seeing that the “adds” have been dealt with, Snow blasted the knight with another series of icy projectiles. “Outright killing it might not help our situation, but I can feel it. Something is beyond here. Damn, I should have felt this before, when I came here looking for Phoenix…”

“That’s in the past now. What matters is if we can get through now.” Nero responded as he grabbed the knight with his bringer, and then gave it a high-voltage punch with Overture. 

“This is a little frustrating. If we can’t tail a knight who won’t run away, my only option would be to open the dimension myself. I can feel it, here, but not here. Almost like there’s something in the air but I just can’t cut through…”

“Cut through, huh… Damn, wish I still had the Yamato on me.”

“You have the Yamato?” Snow gasped, but her attention had to remain on the fight.

“Had. Vergil took it back.” More like he stole it back. At the moment, Nero didn’t care what reason or excuses there were. He could imagine a few, but until he heard them from his father’s own words, he was going to hold that grudge. Because, damnit, no kid likes having their arm torn off by someone who was supposed to be their father. 

“Damn. The Yamato would have been perfect for this situation. That’s all of Sparda’s edge, coalesced into a single physical form. His ability to cut through more than just the physical was the reason why Mundus sent him again and again after the Prismatic Hive’s territory. Because he could cut through the barrier that kept Aegis’ home hidden.”

“Well, that’s not an option. But maybe… even if we do kill it, think it’ll become a Devil Arm? Maybe that would…”

Snow’s eyes widened. “That… that’s worth a try! Okay, let me try something, Nero. I need the knight to stay still…”

“Want me to grapple it or something?”

“It could help. Just let me…” She sheathed her Katana, held it at her side, and tapped the tsuka with two fingers. A mysterious chime rang through the air, and as she breathed, the air became heavy and cold again. Nero also pulled at the sizzling power just beneath his skin, and when Snow next exhaled, she said:

“夜深知雪重,” [ _And I knew that the heavy snow came deep in the night,_ ]

A shockwave of ice and frost extended from her, to the knight, and the ground froze. Ice immediately crept up the knight’s legs and up to its waist. But it was clearly not enough to keep it there. Nero knew what he had to do, and rushed forward, both wing-arms materializing, and clashed with his opponent to hold it in place. With his demonic wing-arms, he held the lance and shield apart and at bay, his normal hands keeping a tight hold on the knight’s second set of arms. 

Behind him, Snow gripped her Katana, breathed in, and moved on her exhale. 

Nero wasn’t surprised when, in a flash of white, Snow was behind the knight, sword drawn. He felt the rush of cold, and saw a slash mark up the knight’s torso, from hip up to the opposing shoulder. Ice and frost grew from the wound, and began to encase the entire body. Nero had to let go and step back before the ice creeped onto him, as well.

Snow didn’t sheath her blade yet, as she turned towards the back of the knight, sword held high, though not with the bladed side down: “时闻折竹声。” [ _When I heard the sudden snap of the bamboo._ ]

She swung down, as if performing a heavy slash, but when the back of her blade made contact with the knight’s head, she drew back, as if performing a heavy tap. Power pulsed in the air, followed by a resounding _crack_. 

The knight shattered, having apparently been frozen through and through. Cold mist drifted from the pieces. As Snow sheathed her blade with a flourish that Nero thought probably ran in the family, she spoke before holding out her hand above the misting corpse: “Yield to me the key. We have won that right.”

The mist coalesced into something solid in her hand; it was key, alright. A big key, almost the size of a sword. 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Snow broke the serious atmosphere as she stared wide-eyed at the key in her grasp. 

“What? What’s wrong?” Nero glanced between her and the key. 

“This is a fucking _keyblade_.”

“A what?”

“A keyblade. From-- Nevermind, you’ve probably never played that game franchise. In terms of weird weapons that should not be used as swords, this is one of those that I would rate 2 outta 10, would not use even as a Devil Hunter.”

Scratching the back of his head, Nero had to give up and just move on with the topic: “Well, you have a pretty serviceable sword right there, so how about we see if this, uh, keyblade, would do its job as a key?”

She scrutinized the blade. “Yes. Let’s.” And after a moment’s focus, performed a few slashes in the air with it, and spun it in the air as if drawing a circle with a compass. The key, though possessing no sharp edges, cut a perfect circle in the air as if cutting a circular panel out of glass. She then… kicked the space in front of her, and the rippling air “fell” back just like a glass panel, disappearing to reveal a room of gold. 

No, not gold. A warm honey-yellow. Almost homely, if you liked honeycombs. They stepped through, and Nero noticed that the small dimension was empty and devoid of demons. 

There was, however, some sort of pod in the center of the room. 

“Phoenix!” Snow cried out, and dashed ahead of Nero. He could only assume that she knew who was within that pod based off of some familial bond. All he could feel was the pulsing aura of something alive and devilish within the pod. 

Snow wasted no time cutting the milky white membranes apart. But what fell out, was not a person. Snow caught a heavy-looking chrysalis about the size of a person. The purple pulsing veins upon the surface did not bode well. 

And then, suddenly, everything about them shifted. 

“Shoot! Move!” Snow shouted as she crudely cut another hole in the air with the keyblade. Nero knew she wasn’t moving through with that… thing that might be her cousin, and manifested his wing-arms to help her trudge the bulky body through. The keyblade dissolved as they made it out to the normal plane of existence. 

“I should have realized, he was being used as an anchor point. Freeing him means the dimension would collapse.”

“Is this really…” Nero glanced at the chrysalis nervously. 

“It has to be. It feels like him. Just… something’s wrong. I don’t know why he’s…” 

He could feel her nervous energy ramping, and so he set his hand on her shoulder. “Hey. I’m sure we’ll figure this out. We have him now. We could let Nico take a look? She’s the best expert I have, with all the research materials from Fortuna to back her up. So let’s get him home, first?”

Steadying her breathing, Snow nodded. “Yes. Yes, you’re right. We just need to keep moving forward. Please call Nicoletta to pick us up, then? I don’t think we can get this back on motorbikes.”

* * *

Nico spent the past few hours checking out what she had been left with. The laptop had internet connection, and was already set to English. Its front page was set to a site that belonged to the family’s storefront. She fiddled around with it for a while, finding a place she couldn’t access unless she had a passcode, and then took a look on the maps to see where the store was. 

Snow’s family probably used the site as one of the ways to get hunting jobs. 

When she observed the list of other things given to her, she realized she had been given the password, too. She’s not sure when they’ll ever put it to use, but she supposed it was still good information to have. 

There was a calendar of information that outlined just about everything Snow had told them. But otherwise, nothing new that Nico could figure out. 

Her head was already feeling a little muddled. Too much information, too fast. 

So she settled for some familiar busy work. There was little she could do right now but to wait and see what Nero and Princess brought back for news. So she went to the RV, and started grabbing parts and sketching blueprints and plans. She realized belatedly that she hadn’t asked if Snow would prefer just one gun, or maybe she would prefer to dual-wield? Would it be a bit presumptuous to go with two?

Nico settled with designing just one gun for now. She knew from observation that Snow was right-handed, and went with that. The two tricky parts were going to be making a gun that not only would withstand her abilities, but one that could also compress that icy power of hers into a more powerful shot. Thankfully, she had Grandma Nell’s original prints of Ebony and Ivory to help with the former problem. The later problem… is going to take a bit of trial and error. 

Like any time she starts working on a pet project, she loses track of time. The sun had risen when the default ringtone of the phone Snow had handed her started going off. Startled, she glanced over to see Nero on the caller ID. 

“What’s up, big guy.” She answered by simply tapping the speaker button. 

“Hey, Nico. If Snow sends you an address, you can figure out how to navigate there, right?”

“What do you take me for? GPS is easy. What, you guys wrecked your bikes already and need me to pick you up?” It’s never a surprise for any of the Sparda kin when it comes to transport and technology: They wreck through them like candy.

“As if! No, we found one of the missing people. But he’s… I don’t know… cocooned up. We don’t know what’s up with it, but a motorcycle is definitely not bringing this guy home.”

“Gotcha, gotcha. Colour me surprised. I’ll be there soon.”

“Cool, thanks. Oh, hey! Wait!”

Right before she hit the hung-up button, she paused. “What?”

“Try not to get pulled over. Snow says she could bail you out if it comes to the worst, but that’s another process of stuff that takes time.”

“Yeah, yeah, what do you take me for? Just hold on to your ass and I’ll be there in a jiffy.” Without waiting for another response, she hit the hang-up button, and stowed away her stuff before heading towards the front of the RV.

* * *

By the time Nico arrived at the specific coordinates given, it was about an hour and a half later. She had to stick to the main roads which took her all the way around, first. And when she got there, Nero was sitting on the ground beside a human-sized cocoon that gave Nico the heebie-jeebies, and Snow was…

Snow was taking a nap. She was impressively laying across her bike, feet propped up above the handlebars, with a comic book--

Nico tried to keep her jaw from dropping when she came out of the RV. Glancing over at Nero, she pointed at Snow: “She asleep?”

“For now. I don’t think she’s slept for two days, if her anxiety was any indication.”

“Did you know you do that same thing?”

“What thing?”

“The book thing. Do you actually sleep like that at night, in bed, too?”

“What book-- Oh. Uh… No? It’s like… If you have a book and you’re reading and you get tired…”

“Was she _actually_ reading that comic book?”

Snow stirred. “I was. Where was I…” She lifted the book. “Page 24. Guess I barely made it through two pages.” She then smiled as she effortlessly rolled off her bike. “Nicoletta. Thanks for coming to pick us up.” 

“Hey, you’re paying us for it. But this is…” Nico glanced at the chrysalis. 

“Phoenix. At least, it feels like him. But I don’t know what’s wrong with him. Nero said you might be able to help us figure that out…”

Nico inhaled and made a thoughtful ‘tsk.’ “Eh, I’ll see what I can do, Princess. Usually I do work on dead stuff Nero brings back. This might be a bit tricky.”

Trying to keep the topic away from negativity, Nero cut in: “Let’s first get ourselves home, to safety. This is just one of, what, nine? We have a long road ahead of us.” And then, his stomach grumbled. 

“Sounds like we also need to recharge on food.” Glancing at the time on her phone, Snow then continued: “Let’s load up, and then… I don’t know, pizza’s a universal food that people like, right?”

Nero made a strangled laugh. 

“Not a fan?” Snow blinked at him. 

“No, I mean, yes, I’m down for pizza. It’s just…”

“You like pizza, Princess?” Knowing exactly why Nero was trying to hold back a laugh, Nico just went for it and asked her with a grin. 

Snow shrugged. “Like it? Yeah. Order about twelve or more and we get a discount. Easy dinner once in a while for my whole family. I like pasta, better, though.”

* * *

The pizza place Snow directed them to certainly opened early in the day, and she had called ahead to put in an order. Nero left the RV with Snow, thinking he should probably help her carry the food back to the RV once it’s ready. 

The shop definitely only just opened. When they came through the doors, the only visible worker seemed to beam as she recognized who Snow was: “白雪王子殿下！早安！” [ _Prince Snow White! Good morning!_ ]

Nero immediately awkwardly fell back by a full step, feeling like an outsider. But the girl that greeted Snow noticed him, and said: “咦，这位是...?” [ _Oh, this is…?_ ]

“哦，这是... Hey, Nero, how old are you?” [ _Oh, this is…_ ]

He glanced between the girl and Snow for a moment, startled at the question because he couldn’t understand a thing that was being said so far. “Uh, I’m 23.”

“Oh, you’re older than me.” She nodded, and then replied back to the employee: “这是我堂哥，Nero!” [ _This is my older cousin from my paternal side,_ Nero!]

Nero stood there uncomfortably as the worker gave him a curious up and down look. She giggled and said: “王子殿下，你不是单身王后的唯一子嗣吗？说从没见过父亲的你，突然有一位堂哥？也是如神仙般的美貌。你爸是谁啊？你确定是你堂哥，不是你同父异母的哥哥？” [ _Your highness, aren’t you the child of a Queen who remains single? You claim you’ve never met your father, suddenly you have a cousin from that side? And he’s also as beautiful as a god. Who’s your father? You’re sure this is your cousin, and not your half-brother?_ ]

“不是~！” [ _I’m sure~!_ ] Snow replied with a lilting tone. “行了行了，小姐。今天我有家事。我知道姑娘们想我了！可是要等家事处理完才能玩。” [ _Alright, alright, young miss. I have family matters today. I know the ladies miss me! But we can’t hang out until after I finish my business._ ] 

Whatever conversation was going on, Nero was hoping it would end soon. The atmosphere was awkwardly flirty and he wasn’t sure how to take it. And finally, someone came out from the back of the store with a stack of five whole pizza boxes. The older lady seemed to tease Snow a bit, and also glanced at Nero curiously when he took three of the two boxes, most likely asking Snow who he was. 

Whatever exchange that followed had Snow laughing, and she turned to Nero and asked: “Hey. the store owner wants to ask if everyone in our family looks like we’re divine?” She was clearly teasing. 

Any other time, if someone were to tell Nero anything about Dante’s or even Vergil’s looks, he would immediately bite back with a crude comment about them, because hell if they deserved those kinds of compliments after the shit they’ve pulled! But he understood clearly that he was more or less the subject of the conversation, and blushed while he stuttered: “Hell if I know! You’re asking the wrong person!”

The store owner laughed, while the other employee giggled. Snow picked up the last two boxes to balance them in one hand, and lightly elbowed Nero. “You’re being too cute. That’s exactly what the ladies wanted to see.” And then she told the ladies: “He’s taken. 他有女友。只能羡慕那位女孩了！” [ _He has a girlfriend. You’ll have to envy her!_ ]

Nero felt like he had been holding his breath until Snow finally said something that sounded like a goodbye, but he had to hide his bafflement when Snow held out a hand, and took the young employee’s hand to place a kiss on the back of her hand. The girl giggled and waved them goodbye. 

When they climbed into the RV, the first thing Nero asked was: “What was that about?”

“The teasing? Oh, just people being curious about new blood—”

“No, I meant the… the hand thing.”

Nico raised an eyebrow as she glanced between the two of them. “What hand thing?”

“Oh, the kiss?”

“Yeah, that.” Nero rubbed the back of his neck while setting the pizzas down on the small table in the RV.

“What’s this about a kiss?” Nico looked like she was ready to get some juicy gossip or something. 

“Just something I do for my babes. They like it when I play the role of the prince with them.”

“Your… what?”

And Nico follows with an amused grin: “Babes? Plural?” 

Suddenly, Snow was a smidge abashed. “It’s a long story.” 

“Oh, no, we have a long drive ahead of us, Princess. Get in the passenger seat. Tell us this story.”

Resigning to her fate as Nico started the car, Snow explained: “So, it wasn’t on purpose.”

“Uh-huh…” Nico nodded, enjoying this story already. 

“I had to take a job a few years back involving a devil trying to prey on girls through a rental girlfriend service—”

“A what?” Nero questioned from his seat behind Nico, hands on top of the pizza boxes to keep them from toppling over. 

“It’s… uh… so it’s kind of like a place people look for dates but a lot of the time it’s either boys who don’t know the first thing about setting up a date unless they pay a girl to try it out, or it’s girls looking for someone to sugar them… which is the perfect place for a tech-savvy devil to do bad things.”

“Okay.” Was all Nero could say. 

“So, what exactly went down?” Nico barreled on both in conversation and on the road. 

“They didn’t call us in until the fifth casualty. To be more accurate, on the fifth missing person, they finally found a half-eaten body. Turns out, the devil was some form of mild shifter that can also lift memories. It was hustling people for laptops and phones, which included login infos.”

“So the devil was smart enough to understand the concept of traceable IP addresses? That’s a surprise.” Nico observed. 

“Yeah. Mind you, the conclusions weren’t arrived at immediately. To make a long story short, we needed to make sure there weren’t any further casualties in order to hunt this devil down. Between Roy and Evan’s innate abilities, they didn’t need quick acting bait. We had enough victims already to profile its targets. It was a very picky eater…”

“Devils and demons can be picky eaters?” Nero never thought much about that before. He’s not sure if he should be comforted by this information. 

“In a depraved and unholy kind of way, yeah. I spent a solid two weeks booking dates with more than a handful of girls, while my uncles pretty much patrolled as we hoped to infuriate the devil enough that they would let slip and show themselves. If it couldn’t lure the victims in, you know…”

“It might eventually confront its competition. Interesting. Though, these victims were young girls? Why send you? Oh, wait, were you into cross-dressing?” Nico’s grin told of her amusement. 

“Nothing of that sort. I was 18 and just graduated high school. The victims in question were all under the age of 21, and were young girls who were either lesbians or bisexual… and liked a girl who had...presence, should I say?”

Now it all made sense. Nero could see where the rest of this story went, and started laughing. “So, what, after your family wrapped up the demon problem, you just kept seeing them?”

Snow shrugged. “Everyone needs a hobby…? Besides, I ended up getting some of the girls hooked up with each other as I got to know them better in the past three years. Win-win, if you ask me.”

Even Nico laughed at that. “That’s fantastic. So, a Princess who plays the role of Prince Charming and matchmaker for the babes, huh?”

“Hey, it’s a pretty high honor among the girls. They are honestly the closest I could call friends, with an expected distance in between. Hopefully this means no one has to get hurt from getting too close…”

And suddenly, Nero thought of Kyrie and Nico both, and he felt sorry for Snow. The way she said that, it was as if she never expected to have a meaningful relationship, with people she can trust. The relationship between her and those girls were first and foremost built over entertainment and money. It was honestly pretty sad, and in a crude way, was only one step up from Dante’s terrible (and luckless) flirting that Nero’s heard so much about.

He realized now that there was something different between having blood relatives and having friends or found family. At the moment, in terms of strong relationships, Nero and Snow had mostly the opposite of what they each had. 

Nero couldn’t think of anything too encouraging to say, and somewhat regretted the words that came out of his mouth: “Well, it sounds like you at least have better luck than Dante when it comes to women.”

The gaze in Snow’s bright eyes told of how she read into his words, and she surprisingly smirked: “Is that so? He might reconsider his luck, if my mother ever gets over her insecurity and reacquaints herself with him.”

Somehow, Nero found this just as ominous as it was relieving. 

* * *

The moment right before departure from Hell was _very_ awkward. 

Roy and Vergil were each clearly very on edge; the former didn’t like having powerful devils in his territory, the later didn’t like sticking around in said territory. 

And Dante didn’t have much to give in terms of placating the situation as Vergil worked towards opening a gateway. 

So Dante stood by Sera, and awkwardly tried to make small talk: “Well. Here’s hoping not a lot of time has passed since coming down here.”

“Yes. I would hate to lose more time.” She responded solemnly. 

He wasn’t too sure where to go from there. He still had a lot on his mind. At first, he was simply hoping they could all get home, and he might be able to watch his family heal. But Mundus just always had to wreck their life, didn’t he?

“You said that Nero was a Holy Knight when you first met him.” Sera picked out a direction for their otherwise fumbling conversation. 

“Yeah. Not anymore though. The Order of the Sword is no more, after their Vicar tried to pull some sort of resurrection of The Saviour or whatever you want to call it.”

She nodded, but then said: “Regardless, that wouldn’t be an easy honor to achieve. Knighthood. I would be proud of him despite what happened with the Order. And what about after? How is he?”

That was a loaded question. Was Nero well? Had he truly been well since Fortuna became a mess? Dante gave him work and gave him what little support he could, but in his own muddled depression, he realized that he hadn’t really considered if Nero was actually _well_.

But he had to give her something. “He’s… probably a lot better put-together than myself and Vergil combined, to be honest.” He ignored the scrutinizing stare from her. “He’s got a life. A rocky one at first, but he has people he could call family that did a whole lot better for him than I ever could have. Though recent things have got me thinking again…”

He shook his head. “I hate thinking about what-ifs. Always makes me just want to…” he sighed. “I wished Vergil had given me some indication of where he had been. Some reason to have visited Fortuna earlier. Maybe I would have found Nero when he was younger. But then, I don’t know… I don’t know if I could have really given him a better childhood either. But I guess I would have tried? Vergil would never win my big-brother-of-the-year award but I wouldn’t have left my nephew to the wolves...”

Sera tilted her head in acknowledgment of the conversation, but didn’t say anything further. Right, Dante was supposed to be answering about how Nero was doing _now_.

“He’s still living in Fortuna. I guess it’s hard to go far from the place you call home. And he has a place to go back to. A sweet girlfriend, and some orphans they foster.” 

Now, at least, he could see a smile on Sera’s face. “He has a girlfriend? I’m happy to hear that, though a little bitter I didn’t get to be around for the days of his first teenage crush.”

Dante scratched his nose nervously. He decided it was best to not reveal Kyrie yet. “Well, I’m sure the kid would be happy to introduce her to you. He’s been sweet on her probably since his teenage years. Pretty much went to hell and back for her, too. Minus the literal hell part. Stuff went pretty bad when the Order tried to enact their plan. But he saved the world, and saved the girl. That’s an achievement that’s hard to top.”

“That’s good.” She seemed a little distant, clearly imagining the sweetness she had been missing out on. “It’s good that he has someone like that. That he would fight for her.”

Briefly, Dante hoped that with recent developments, he could say the same about Vergil. But would he, really? Vergil was always fighting for power. Seemed to always only fight for himself. But was that truly how his brother is? Or was it just a product of desperation?

He wasn’t given too much time to mull over it, though. Vergil appeared to have figured out what he needed to do, and had sliced open a peculiar portal in thin air. The method he used wasn’t a cross slash, but instead he made three sets of parallel cuts that formed a hexagon shaped portal in the space ahead of them. 

“Let us be off.” He said simply to Dante and Sera. Strangely, he didn’t want to hold on to the Aegis Shield, and handed it back to Sera. 

* * *

During the drive back, the three of them had already dug into a slice or two of the pizza while it was still warm. No one complained about needing to microwave the rest of the food later, when they could actually sit down under a roof and eat, but the drive was long, and Nero and Snow at least needed to nibble on something to tide themselves over. 

The shuffling of the party plus one cocooned part-devil was nothing exciting. “Phoenix” was currently set atop a nest of blankets that Snow had grabbed from somewhere, on the floor of the guest lounge. No one really knew what to do with the chrysalis right now. 

The pizza boxes were set down on a coffee table, and right as Snow flipped open the top box that they had all been grabbing slices from, Nico noticed that the two part-devils suddenly froze. 

More than that, even Nico herself felt something change in the air. 

“That’s from downstairs!” Snow shouted and suddenly bolted. 

“Wait, what was that?” Nero also shouted and ran after her. 

Nico felt like she had no choice but to grab something from her toolkit and follow as closely as she could, while hearing Snow from up ahead: “That was the GATE!”

“The one under us??” Nico hollered. 

“Yeah! So it might mean Roy is back! But stay on guard--” Snow interrupted herself by slamming open a hidden wooden door that looked to be part of the series of wooden panels in the walls. Nico followed them down one staircase, turned, went down another staircase, and waited as Snow fiddled with a magic lock on a steel door. 

“I’m guessing there’s a possibility something else could try to come through the gate?” The engineer asked as she unfolded the prototype plasma gun she kept on hand. (It could always use more test runs, and more fine-tuning.)

Snow didn’t hide the possibility, as her tail unfurled and spiked up, and there was a pulsing and bright golden glow from it. She even paused for a moment, glancing up from the lock as if she were staring intensely through the steel door. “I can feel the Aegis Shield, but… Not Roy… something else is there. Two very large and unfamiliar presences…”

Nico then noticed Nero had an intense look on his face. Before she could ask him what’s wrong, he said: “Snow. Let me through, first.”

“You--”

“Let me be at front. I need to see something.”

Snow had a brief stare-down at him, and Nico glanced nervously between the two. 

Then, she heard the lock in Snow’s hand click open. Snow blinked once, but didn’t look away from Nero. “I have your back.” She said plainly, and stepped away. “Door opens inwards. Kick it down, cousin.” She then pulled her hairpin out of her hair, and the Kirayuki materialized in her hand. 

Nero did exactly that, kicking in the door. The team filed through, with Nero at front, Snow in center, and Nico in the back. Three steps in, and Nico noticed they were pretty high up, in a circular room. 

The entire room glowed an eerie orange, and looked as if someone had carved out a giant cylinder from the rock of the island. The stone stairway spiraled down the wall, with a railing that looked like it was installed as an afterthought. 

Below, carved into the ground, was a giant circular array, and the entire surrounding wall had glyphs carved into it. Nico recognized these glyphs: they were the same ones that were carved into Fortuna’s hellgates. 

While they had barged into the room with Nero’s urgency at first, not five steps down the staircase, did Nico nearly gasp as she both saw familiar faces and heard a familiar voice at the center of the array:

“Well, hey, looks like there’s a welcoming party!”

If Dante were surprised to see them here, then Nico could say the same for them. She never had the pleasure of seeing Vergil face to face, but she had no doubt that the man holding the Yamato with a guarded stance would be him. The lady who looked like she’s been to Hell and back though… well, that was a stranger who literally went to Hell and back, huh?

Nero continued down the stairs, starting up a brisk pace while re-holstering his Red Queen at his back: “So you _finally_ came back, huh, you old bastard? Surprised it only took you _3 fucking months_ instead of, oh, I don’t know, a whole year? Or maybe forever?”

Nico could see the blue outline of Nero’s wing-claws resting on his shoulders as he cracked his knuckles in his left hand. He seemed to be keeping a modicum of self-control, otherwise Nico was sure he would have flipped over the railing to deliver a knuckle sandwich to his uncle and his father. 

But, more concernedly, Nico noticed that Snow did not follow Nero’s brisk pace. Instead, she took each step down measurely, her gaze towards the center of the array. 

And that was when Nico noticed, while Dante had a grin plastered on as he kept his eyes on Nero, Vergil, with his hawkish demeanor, had his gaze on Snow. (The mystery woman had a sort of forlorn gaze on Nero, but Nico couldn’t be bothered to worry about the stranger right now.) 

She was worried about how this was going to pan out for Snow. Nico followed their host down the steps slowly, while Nero was two thirds of the way down the spiral already: “I don’t know if you have the best timing in the world or the most rotten timing in the world, Dante. There’s business to be taken care of, but after this is all said and done, don’t you dare think we aren’t due for a conversation.” As he got to the bottom of the stairs and made his way towards them, he also pointed menacingly at Vergil: “And that includes you, too!”

Dante seemed to try and play it off cool, as he tried to placate Nero: “Yeah, I hear ya, I hear ya kid. But man, what a small world...”

“‘Small world’ my ass, old man! If you asked me, I’m beginning to think this entire mess was going to compound inevitably! So, you made it back through this gate, of all things. Where’s the owner of that shield?” 

Nico was surprised Nero was going to change the topic straight to their job, and picked up exactly what the rainbow shield hanging off of the mystery-woman's arm was. Nico and Nero both knew that didn’t go down into Hell with that woman. 

And whomever that lady was, as Nero gestured towards her, answered immediately: “Trapped.”

Her speaking up finally drew Nero’s attention proper, and the room fell silent. She was an unknown factor here; a stranger. Snow and Nico continued to make their way down the stairs, almost at the bottom, but now everyone’s attention was on the new woman. 

Dante was the first to speak up: “Hey, Angel--”

“The owner of this shield told me his name was Roy. Is that whom you’re asking after?” The woman whom Dante called “Angel” inquired back. 

And finally, Snow spoke up: “Where is he?” She had finally made it to the bottom of the stairway. Nico wondered how much control Snow was trying to hold on to, to keep her voice even. 

“Trapped on the other side, holding trouble at bay, wishing someone would help him save his family.” 

Now, this was getting intriguing! And Worrisome! So, Roy couldn’t make it back? But it seems like he managed to make contact with the Sons of Sparda. Now was that luck? 

Or was that fate?

Nero followed up with: “What happened?” But Snow stopped herself half a step ahead of him, left hand (with katana still in her grip) lightly held out as she glanced towards him, signalling that she’ll take it from there. 

She held out her right hand: “May I have my uncle’s Aegis Shield back?”

The woman tilted her head slightly, clearly hesitant when no one seemed to know each other. She was also glancing between Snow and Nero… and Nico could imagine, part of the hesitation has a lot to do with the fact that it’s hard to even tell if Snow is related to Roy at all.

But, surprisingly, Vergil said: “You must be Snow.”

Nico had to say, that wasn’t exactly the voice she expected to hear. It was like V, yet also so very unlike V. Like someone adjusted the pitch, but kept the same quality of smoothness, and yet added a layer of ice over it. 

When Nico made her way to Nero’s other side, lowering her weapon, she glanced over to see Snow’s gaze flick over towards Vergil, and then rest briefly on Dante, before bringing it back down to the shield, her hand held out further: “I am Snow, yes. In absence of the rest of my family, that family heirloom belongs to me. Please...”

The woman no longer hesitated, and gently handed the shield to her. “Your uncle was worried about you.” She said with surprising softness. 

Snow nodded slowly, and finally met the woman’s gaze to ask: “And you are…?”

“Seraphina Valkyrie. I was simply a wayward soul your uncle found down in Hell. But his aid helped me find Dante and Vergil. We had hoped to bring Roy back with us, but as I’ve explained…”

“Something is wrong, down in the Underworld, isn’t there?” Nero couldn’t help but cut in, though he was looking at Dante and Vergil for answers. 

Something about the way Dante tensed made Nico worry. “When is there not, kiddo…”

Vergil was still scrutinizing Snow, and it was beginning to even make _Nico_ uncomfortable. As the elder twin brought out an arm towards Dante’s shoulder, to get his attention: “ _Dante--_ ”

Snow hit pause on the entire conversation with a resounding decision: “We’ll save the explanations for later. You three look like you need a shower. A long and _thorough_ one. Cantrips or no, three months down there means the remnants of Hell will still manage to cling to you. Clean up. Get some food in you. And _then_ , we’ll talk.”

Nero and Nico both glanced at each other. 

Who were they to argue with the Princess of the house? And besides, she had a point. 

Snow might have been too courteous to say it, but if Nico could smell it, then it was probably worse for Nero and Snow. 

The returners from Hell smelled terrible. 

And even though Vergil looked like he wasn’t happy to be interrupted, and Dante seemed to _only just now_ see Snow with a flash of startled emotion in his eyes, the Sons of Sparda didn’t dare argue against the plan. 

And Miss Seraphina, with her very interesting metal platings on her arms that Nico was just now noticing, glanced down at the rest of what she was barely wearing, along with how her skin was coated in blood and grime, grimaced, and glanced up at Snow: “Would you happen to have clothes that I could borrow?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Roy just wants the best for his baby sister, and Dante will learn soon enough. (Dante: why can’t my big brother be so sweet and caring?)  
> \- I’m absolutely not well-versed in plays or dramas of any sort. It’s a shame, or I’d have more examples of things to describe on the topic of “Sparda reenacts plays for Aegis.” Believe me… they were definitely very hilarious performances.  
> \- Originally, Snow’s mask was supposed to be a butterfly. I changed it to dragonfly because I was thinking of “B-Fighter Yanma.” If anyone gets the reference, I’ll be impressed! (It’s a very stupid dumb reference to be honest; I’m obsessed with the Tokusatsu genre.)  
> \- The poem excerpt Snow recited is called 夜雪 [Overnight Snow] by Bai Juyi.   
> \- I wasn’t planning on the keyblade stuff. Wasn’t even planning on the video game references. But I thought about it and… it makes sense. Snow is still a modern day girl who had the money to afford nice things. Plus, the family needed some way to entertain 8 kids under one roof!  
> \- As far as I’m concerned, a “rental girlfriend” is a fictional rom-com trope or something. I have no doubts this kind of stuff won’t fly safely in real life. But hey, this is fiction!  
> \- Hey, remember when I said Snow wasn’t supposed to be super great at flirting? So maybe I lied. Or maybe it just depends on what actual result she wants from it. :’D  
> \- Nero and Snow each of 99 problems of different sorts. And now they have more.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to my readers that comment who are not registered users, but in order to minimize undesired commentary from insensitive people, I refuse to allow them to hide behind the ability to make me guess on the source of such comments. I have life and a family to take care of outside of my fanworks, and stress from fanworks is undesired. I still love each and every one of you who have commented without an account, and I hope you continue to enjoy reading my works.


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